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JOVE  (JUPITER). 

Museum  at  Naples.  Excavated  from  Pompeii  in  iSlS. 


THE  AGE  OF  FABLE 


OR 

STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

BY 

THOMAS  BULFINCH 


REVISED  AND  ENLARGED  EDITION 
WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS 


NEW  YORK 

THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1913, 

By  THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  COMPANY. 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


PUBLISHERS’  PREFACE 


No  new  edition  of  Bulfinch’s  classic  work  can  be  con¬ 
sidered  complete  without  some  notice  of  the  American 
scholar  to  whose  wide  erudition  and  painstaking  care 
it  stands  as  a  perpetual  monument.  “The  Age  of  Fable”r 
has  come  to  be  ranked  with  older  books  like  “Pilgrim’s 
Progress,”  “Gulliver’s  Travels,”  “The  Arabian  Nights,” 
“Robinson  Crusoe,”  and  five  or  six  other  productions  of 
world-wide  renown  as  a  work  with  which  every  one 
must  claim  some  acquaintance  before  his  education  can 
be  called  really  complete.  Many  readers  of  the  present 
edition  will  probably  recall  coming  in  contact  with  the 
work  as  children,  and,  it  may  be  added,  will  no  doubt 
discover  from  a  fresh  perusal  the  source  of  numerous 
bits  of  knowledge  that  have  remained  stored  in  their 
minds  since  those  early  years.  Yet  to  the  majority  of 
this  great  circle  of  readers  and  students  the  name  Bul- 
finch  in  itself  has  no  significance. 

Thomas  Bulfinch  was  a  native  of  Boston,  Mass.,  where 
he  was  born  in  1796.  His  boyhood  was  spent  in  that 
city,  and  he  prepared  for  college  in  the  Boston  schools. 
He  finished  his  scholastic  training  at  Harvard  College, 
and  after  taking  his  degree  was  for  a  period  a  teacher 
in  his  home  city.  For  a  long  time  later  in  life  he  was 
employed  as  an  accountant  in  the  Boston  Merchants’ 
Bank.  His  leisure  time  he  used  for  further  pursuit  of 
the  classical  studies  which  he  had  begun  at  Harvard, 
and  his  chief  pleasure  in  life  lay  in  writing  out  the  re¬ 
sults  of  his  reading,  in  simple,  condensed  form  for  young 
or  busy  readers.  The  plan  he  followed  in  this  work,  to 
give  it  the  greatest  possible  usefulness,  is  set  forth  in 
the  Author’s  Preface. 

•  •  • 

m 


AUTHOR’S  PREFACE 


If  no  other  knowledge  deserves  to  be  called  useful 
but  that  which  helps  to  enlarge  our  possessions  or  to 
raise  our  station  in  society,  then  Mythology  has  no  claim 
to  the  appellation.  But  if  that  which  tends  to  make  us 
happier  and  better  can  be  called  useful,  then  we  claim 
that  epithet  for  our  subject.  For  Mythology  is  the 
handmaid  of  literature;  and  literature  is  one  of  the  best 
allies  of  virtue  and  promoters  of  happiness. 

Without  a  knowledge  of  mythology  much  of  the  ele¬ 
gant  literature  of  our  own  language  cannot  be  under¬ 
stood  and  appreciated.  When  Byron  calls  Rome  “the 
Niobe  of  nations/’  or  says  of  Venice,  “She  looks  a  Sea- 
Cybele  fresh  from  ocean,”  he  calls  up  to  the  mind  of 
one  familiar  with  our  subject,  illustrations  more  vivid 
and  striking  than  the  pencil  could  furnish,  but  which 
are  lost  to  the  reader  ignorant  of  mythology.  Milton 
abounds  in  similar  allusions.  The  short  poem  “Comus” 
contains  more  than  thirty  such,  and  the  ode  “On  the 
Morning  of  the  Nativity”  half  as  many.  Through 
“Paradise  Lost”  they  are  scattered  profusely.  This  is 
one  reason  why  we  often  hear  persons  by  no  means  il¬ 
literate  say  that  they  cannot  enjoy  Milton.  But  were 
these  persons  to  add  to  their  more  solid  acquirements  the 
easy  learning  of  this  little  volume,  much  of  the  poetry 
of  Milton  which  has  appeared  to  them  “harsh  and 
crabbed”  would  be  found  “musical  as  is  Apollo’s  lute.” 
Our  citations,  taken  from  more  than  twenty-five  poets, 
from  Spenser  to  Longfellow,  will  show  how  general  has 
been  the  practice  of  borrowing  illustrations  from  myth¬ 
ology. 

The  prose  writers  also  avail  themselves  of  the  same 
source  of  elegant  and  suggestive  illustration.  One  can 
hardly  take  up  a  number  of  the  “Edinburgh”  or  “Quar- 


VI 


AUTHOR’S  PREFACE 


terly  Review”  without  meeting  with  instances.  In  Ma¬ 
caulay’s  article  on  Milton  there  are  twenty  such. 

But  how  is  mythology  to  be  taught  to  one  who  does 
not  learn  it  through  the  medium  of  the  languages  of 
Greece  and  Rome?  To  devote  study  to  a  species  of  learn¬ 
ing  which  relates  wholly  to  false  marvels  and  obsolete 
faiths  is  not  to  be  expected  of  the  general  reader  in  a 
practical  age  like  this.  The  time  even  of  the  young  is 
claimed  by  so  many  sciences  of  facts  and  things  that 
little  can  be  spared  for  set  treatises  on  a  science  of  mere 
fancy. 

But  may  not  the  requisite  knowledge  of  the  subject  be 
acquired  by  reading  the  ancient  poets  in  translations? 
We  reply,  the  field  is  too  extensive  for  a  preparatory 
course;  and  these  very  translations  require  some  pre¬ 
vious  knowledge  of  the  subject  to  make  them  intelli¬ 
gible.  Let  any  one  who  doubts  it  read  the  first  page 
of  the  “yEneid,”  and  see  what  he  can  make  of  “the  hatred 
of  Juno,”  the  “decree  of  the  Parcse,”  the  “judgment  of 
Paris,”  and  the  “honors  of  Ganymede,”  without  this 
knowledge. 

Shall  we  be  told  that  answers  to  such  queries  may 
be  found  in  notes,  or  by  a  reference  to  the  Classical 
Dictionary?  We  reply,  the  interruption  of  one’s  read¬ 
ing  by  either  process  is  so  annoying  that  most  readers 
prefer  to  let  an  allusion  pass  unapprehended  rather  than 
submit  to  it.  Moreover,  such  sources  give  us  only  the 
dry  facts  without  any  of  the  charm  of  the  original  nar¬ 
rative;  and  what  is  a  poetical  myth  when  stripped  of 
its  poetry?  The  story  of  Ceyx  and  Halcyone,  which 
fills  a  chapter  in  our  book,  occupies  but  eight  lines 
in  the  best  (Smith’s)  Classical  Dictionary;  and  so  of 
others. 

Our  work  is  an  attempt  to  solve  this  problem,  by 
telling  the  stories  of  mythology  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
make  them  a  source  of  amusement.  We  have  endeav¬ 
ored  to  tell  them  correctly,  according  to  the  ancient 
authorities,  so  that  when  the  reader  finds  them  referred 
to  he  may  not  be  at  a  loss  to  recognize  the  reference. 
Thus  we  hope  to  teach  mythology  not  as  a  study,  but  as 
a  relaxation  from  study;  to  give  our  work  the  charm 


AUTHOR’S  PREFACE 


•  • 
Vll 

of  a  story-book,  yet  by  means  of  it  to  impart  a  knowledge 
of  an  important  branch  of  education.  The  index  at  the 
end  will  adapt  it  to  the  purposes  of  reference,  and  make 
it  a  Classical  Dictionary  for  the  parlor. 

Most  of  the  classical  legends  in  “Stories  of  Gods  and 
Heroes”  are  derived  from  Ovid  and  Virgil.  They  are 
not  literally  translated,  for,  in  the  author’s  opinion, 
poetry  translated  into  literal  prose  is  very  unattractive 
reading.  Neither  are  they  in  verse,  as  well  for  other 
reasons  as  from  a  conviction  that  to  translate  faithfully 
under  all  the  embarrassments  of  rhyme  and  measure  is 
impossible.  The  attempt  has  been  made  to  tell  the  stories 
in  prose,  preserving  so  much  of  the  poetry  as  resides  in 
the  thoughts  and  is  separable  from  the  language  itself, 
and  omitting  those  amplifications  which  are  not  suited  to 
the  altered  form. 

The  Northern  mythological  stories  _are.  xopiecLwilh 
some  abridgment-tom  Mallet’s  “Northern  Antiquities.” 
These  chapters,  with  those  on  Oriental  and  Egyptian 
mythology,  seemed  necessary  to  complete  the  subject, 
though  it  is  believed  these  topics  have  not  usually 
been  presented  in  the  same  volume  with  the  classical 
fables. 

The  poetical  citations  so  freely  introduced  are  ex¬ 
pected  to  answer  several  valuable  purposes.  They  will 
tend  to  fix  in  memory  the  leading  fact  of  each  story,  they 
will  help  to  the  attainment  of  a  correct  pronunciation  of 
the  proper  names,  and  they  will  enrich  the  memory  with 
many  gems  of  poetry,  some  of  them  such  as  are  most 
frequently  quoted  or  alluded  to  in  reading  and  con¬ 
versation. 

Having  chosen  mythology  as  connected  with  litera¬ 
ture  for  our  province,  we  have  endeavored  to  omit  noth¬ 
ing  which  the  reader  of  elegant  literature  is  likely  to 
find  occasion  for.  Such  stories  and  parts  of  stories  as 
are  offensive  to  pure  taste  and  good  morals  are  not  given. 
But  such  stories  are  not  often  referred  to,  and  if  they 
occasionally  should  be,  the  English  reader  need  feel 
no  mortification  in  confessing  his  ignorance  of  them. 

Our  work  is  not  for  the  learned,  nor  for  the  theolo¬ 
gian,  nor  for  the  philosopher,  but  for  the  reader  of 


Vlll 


AUTHOR’S  PREFACE 


English  literature,  of  either  sex,  who  wishes  to  com¬ 
prehend  the  allusions  so  frequently  made  by  public 
speakers,  lecturers,  essayists,  and  poets,  and  those  which 
occur  in  polite  conversation. 


In  the  “Stories  of  Gods  and  Heroes”  the  compiler  has 
endeavored  to  impart  the  pleasures  of  classical  learning 
to  the  English  reader,  by  presenting  the  stories  of  Pagan 
mythology  in  a  form  adapted  to  modern  taste.  In  “King 
Arthur  and  His  Knights”  and  “The  Mabinogeon”  the 
attempt  has  been  made  to  treat  in  the  same  way  the 
stories  of  the  second  “age  of  fable,”  the  age  which 
witnessed  the  dawn  of  the  several  states  of  Modem 
Europe. 

It  is  believed  that  this  presentation  of  a  literature 
which  held  unrivalled  sway  over  the  imaginations  of 
our  ancestors,  for  many  centuries,  will  not  be  without 
benefit  to  the  reader,  in  addition  to  the  amusement  it 
may  afford.  The  tales,  though  not  to  be  trusted  for 
their  facts,  are  worthy  of  all  credit  as  pictures  of  man¬ 
ners;  and  it  is  beginning  to  be  held  that  the  manners 
and  modes  of  thinking  of  an  age  are  a  more  important 
part  of  its  history  than  the  conflicts  of  its  peoples,  gen¬ 
erally  leading  to  no  result.  Besides  this,  the  literature 
of  romance  is  a  treasure-house  of  poetical  material,  to 
which  modern  poets  frequently  resort.  The  Italian  poets, 
Dante  and  Ariosto,  the  English,  Spenser,  Scott,  and  Ten¬ 
nyson,  and  our  own  Longfellow  and  Lowell,  are  ex¬ 
amples  of  this. 

These  legends  are  so  connected  with  each  other,  so 
consistently  adapted  to  a  group  of  characters  strongly 
individualized  in  Arthur,  Launcelot,  and  their  compeers, 
and  so  lighted  up  by  the  fires  of  imagination  and  inven¬ 
tion,  that  they  seem  as  well  adapted  to  the  poet’s  pur¬ 
pose  as  the  legends  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  mythology. 
And  if  every  well-educated  young  person  is  expected  to 
know  the  story  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  why  is  the  quest 
of  the  Sangreal  less  worthy  of  his  acquaintance?  Or  if 
an  allusion  to  the  shield  of  Achilles  ought  not  to  pass 


AUTHOR’S  PREFACE 


IX 


unapprehended,  why  should  one  to  Excalibar,  the  famous 
sword  of  Arthur? — 

“Of  Arthur,  who,  to  upper  light  restored, 

With  that  terrific  sword, 

Which  yet  he  brandishes  for  future  war, 

Shall  lift  his  country’s  fame  above  the  polar  star.”1 

It  is  an  additional  recommendation  of  our  subject,  that 
it  tends  to  cherish  in  our  minds  the  idea  of  the  source 
from  which  we  sprung.  We  are  entitled  to  our  full 
share  in  the  glories  and  recollections  of  the  land  of  our 
forefathers,  down  to  the  time  of  colonization  thence. 
The  associations  which  spring  from  this  source  must  be 
fruitful  of  good  influences ;  among  which  not  the  least 
valuable  is  the  increased  enjoyment  which  such  associ¬ 
ations  afford  to  the  American  traveller  when  he  visits 
England,  and  sets  his  foot  upon  any  of  her  renowned 
localities. 


The  legends  of  Charlemagne  and  his  peers  are  neces-f 
sary  to  complete  the  subject.  J 

In  an  age  when  intellectual  darkness  enveloped  West¬ 
ern  Europe,  a  constellation  of  brilliant  writers  arose  in 
Italy.  Of  these,  Pulci  (born  in  1432),  Boiardo  (1434) 
and  Ariosto  (1474)  took  for  their  subjects  the  romantic 
fables  which  had  for  many  ages  been  transmitted  in  the 
lays  of  bards  and  the  legends  of  monkish  chroniclers. 
These  fables  they  arranged  in  order,  adorned  with  the 
embellishments  of  fancy,  amplified  from  their  own  in¬ 
vention,  and  stamped  with  immortality.  It  may  safely1 
be  asserted  that  as  long  as  civilization  shall  endure  these 
productions  will  retain  their  place  among  the  most  cher¬ 
ished  creations  of  human  genius. 

In  “Stories  of  Gods  and  Heroes,”  “King  Arthur  anc' 
His  Knights”  and  “The  Mabinogeon”  the  aim  has  beer 
to  supply  to  the  modem  reader  such  knowledge  of  the 
fables  of  classical  and  mediaeval  literature  as  is  needed  to 
render  intelligible  the  allusions  which  occur  in  reading 
and  conversation.  The  “Legends  of  Charlemagne”  is 

1  Wordsworth. 


X 


AUTHOR’S  PREFACE 


intended  to  carry  out  the  same  design.  Like  the  earlier 
portions  of  the  work,  it  aspires  to  a  higher  character 
than  that  of  a  piece  of  mere  amusement.  It  claims  to  be 
useful,  in  acquainting  its  readers  with  the  subjects  of 
the  productions  of  the  great  poets  of  Italy.  Some 
knowledge  of  these  is  expected  of  every  well-educated 
young  person. 

In  reading  these  romances,  we  cannot  fail  to  observe 
how  the  primitive  inventions  have  been  used,  again  and 
again,  by  successive  generations  of  fabulists.  The  Siren 
of  Ulysses  is  the  prototype  of  the  Siren  of  Orlando,  and 
the  character  of  Circe  reappears  in  Alcina.  The  foun¬ 
tains  of  Love  and  Hatred  may  be  traced  to  the  story  of 
Cupid  and  Psyche;  and  similar  effects  produced  by  a 
magic  draught  appear  in  the  tale  of  Tristram  and  Isoude, 
and,  substituting  a  flower  for  the  draught,  in  Shakspeare’s 
“Midsummer  Night’s  Dream.”  There  are  many  other 
instances  of  the  same  kind  which  the  reader  will  rec¬ 
ognize  without  our  assistance. 

The  sources  whence  we  derive  these  stories  are,  first, 
the  Italian  poets  named  above;  next,  the  “Romans  de 
Chevalerie”  of  the  Comte  de  Tressan;  lastly,  certain 
German  collections  of  popular  tales.  Some  chapters 
have  been  borrowed  from  Leigh  Hunt’s  Translations 
from  the  Italian  Poets.  It  seemed  unnecessary  to  do 
over  again  what  he  had  already  done  so  well;  yet,  on 
the  other  hand,  those  stories  could  not  be  omitted  from 
the  series  without  leaving  it  incomplete. 

Thomas  Bulfinch. 


\ 


CONTENTS 

STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  Introduction .  I 


II.  Prometheus  and  Pandora . 12 

III.  Apollo  and  Daphne  —  Pyramus  and  This- 

be  —  Cephalus  and  Procris  ....  19 

IV.  Juno  and  her  Rivals,  Io  and  Callisto  — 


Diana  and  Actaeon  —  Eatona  and  the 
Rustics . 28 

V.  Phaeton . 38 

VI.  Midas  —  Baucis  and  Philemon  ....  46 

VII.  Proserpine  —  Glaucus  and  Scylla  ...  52 

VIII.  Pygmalion  —  Dryope  —  Venus  and  Ado¬ 
nis —  Apollo  and  Hyacinthus  ...  62 

IX.  Ceyx  and  Halcyone . 69 

X.  Vertumnus  and  Pomona  —  Iphis  and 

Anaxarete . 76 

XI.  Cupid  and  Psyche . 80 

XII.  Cadmus  —  The  Myrmidons . 91 

XIII.  Nisus  and  Scylla  —  Echo  and  Narcissus 

—  Clytie  —  Hero  and  Leander  ...  98 

XIV.  Minerva  and  Arachne  —  Niobe  .  .  ^  107 

XV.  The  Grsese  and  Gorgons  —  Perseus  and 

Medusa  —  Atlas  —  Andromeda  .  .  .  115 

XVI.  Monsters:  Giants  —  Sphinx  —  Pegasus 
and  Chimaera  —  Centaurs  —  Griffin  — 
Pygmies . 122 

XVII.  The  Golden  Fleece  —  Medea  ....  129 

XVIII.  Meleager  and  Atalanta . 138 

XIX.  Hercules  —  Hebe  and  Ganymede  .  .  .  143 


xi 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

XX. 

XXI. 

XXII. 


XXIII. 

XXIV. 

XXV. 

XXVI. 

XXVII. 

XXVIII. 

XXIX. 


XXX. 

XXXI. 

XXXII. 

XXXIII. 


XXXIV. 

XXXV. 

XXXVI. 

XXXVII. 


PAG8 

Theseus  and  Daedalus  —  Castor  and  Pol¬ 
lux —  Festivals  and  Games  .  .  .  .  150 

Bacchus  and  Ariadne . 160 

The  Rural  Deities  —  The  Dryads  and 
Erisichthon  —  Rhoecus  —  Water  Deities 
—  Camenae  —  Winds . 166 

Achelous  and  Hercules  —  Admetus  and 


Alcestis  —  Antigone  —  Penelope  .  .  177 

Orpheus  and  Eurydice  —  Aristaeus  — 
Amphion  —  Linus  —  Thamyris  —  Mar- 
syas  —  Melampus  —  Musaeus  .  .  .  185 

Arion  —  Ibycus  —  Simonides  —  Sappho  .  194 

Endymion  —  Orion  —  Aurora  and  Titho- 
nus  —  Acis  and  Galatea . 204 

The  Trojan  War . 211 

The  Fall  of  Troy  —  Return  of  the  Greeks 

—  Orestes  and  Electra . 227 

Adventures  of  Ulysses  —  The  Lotus-eaters 

—  The  Cyclopes  —  Circe  —  Sirens  — 


Scylla  and  Charybdis  —  Calypso  .  .  236 

The  Phaeacians  —  Fate  of  the  Suitors  .  .  247 

Adventures  of  Eneas —  The  Harpies  — 

Dido  —  Palinurus . 258 

The  Infernal  Regions  —  The  Sibyl  .  .  266 

.Eneas  in  Italy  —  Camilla  —  Evander  — 

Nisus  and  Euryalus  —  Mezentius  — 


Turnus . 276 

Pythagoras  —  Egyptian  Deities  —  Oracles  288 


Origin  of  Mythology — Statues  of  Gods 
and  Goddesses  —  Poets  of  Mythology  .  300 

Monsters  (modern)  —  The  Phoenix  — 
Basilisk  —  Unicorn  —  Salamander  .  .  310 

Eastern  Mythology  —  Zoroaster  —  Hindu 
Mythology  —  Castes  —  Buddha  —  The 
Grand  Lama  —  Prester  John.  .  .  .  318 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

XXXVIII.  Northern  Mythology  —  Valhalla  —  The 
Valkyrior . 

XXXIX.  Thor’s  Visit  to  Jotunheim . 

XT.  The  Death  of  Baldur —  The  Elves  — 
Runic  Letters  —  Skalds  —  Iceland  — 
Teutonic  Mythology  —  The  Nibelun- 
gen  Lied  —  Wagner’s  Nibelungen  Ring 

XLI.  The  Druids  —  Iona . 


Proverbial  Expressions . 

List  oe  Illustrative  Passages  Quoted  erom  the 
Poets  . 

Index  and  Dictionary . . 


•  •  • 

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STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


CHAPTER  I 

INTRODUCTION 

The  religions  of  ancient  Greece  and  Rome  are  ex¬ 
tinct.  The  so-called  divinities  of  Olympus  have  not  a 
single  worshipper  among  living  men.  They  belong  now 
not  to  the  department  of  theology,  but  to  those  of  liter¬ 
ature  and  taste.  There  they  still  hold  their  place,  and 
will  continue  to  hold  it,  for  they  are  too  closely  con¬ 
nected  with  the  finest  productions  of  poetry  and  art, 
both  ancient  and  modern,  to  pass  into  oblivion. 

We  propose  to  tell  the  stories  relating  to  them  which 
have  come  down  to  us  from  the  ancients,  and  which  are 
alluded  to  by  modern  poets,  essayists,  and  orators.  Our 
readers  may  thus  at  the  same  time  be  entertained  by 
the  most  charming  fictions  which  fancy  has  ever  created, 
and  put  in  possession  of  information  indispensable  to 
every  one  who  would  read  with  intelligence  the  elegant 
literature  of  his  own  day. 

In  order  to  understand  these  stories,  it  will  be  neces¬ 
sary  to  acquaint  ourselves  with  the  ideas  of  the  structure 
of  the  universe  which  prevailed  among  the  Greeks — 
the  people  from  whom  the  Romans,  and  other  nations 
through  them,  received  their  science  and  religion. 

The  Greeks  believed  the  earth  to  be  flat  and  cir¬ 
cular,  their  own  country  occupying  the  middle  of  it,  the 
central  point  being  either  Mount  Olympus,  the  abode 
of  the  gods,  or  Delphi,  so  famous  for  its  oracle. 

The  circular  disk  of  the  earth  was  crossed  from  west 
to  east  and  divided  into  two  equal  parts  by  the  Sea , 
as  they  called  the  Mediterranean,  and  its  continuation 

1 


2 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


the  Euxine,  the  only  seas  with  which  they  were  ac¬ 
quainted. 

Around  the  earth  flowed  the  River  Ocean,  its  course 
being  from  south  to  north  on  the  western  side  of  the 
earth,  and  in  a  contrary  direction  on  the  eastern  side. 
It  flowed  in  a  steady,  equable  current,  unvexed  by  storm 
or  tempest.  The  sea,  and  all  the  rivers  on  earth,  re¬ 
ceived  their  waters  from  it. 

The  northern  portion  of  the  earth  was  supposed  to 
be  inhabited  by  a  happy  race  named  the  Hyperboreans, 
dwelling  in  everlasting  bliss  and  spring  beyond  the  lofty 
mountains  whose  caverns  were  supposed  to  send  forth 
the  piercing  blasts  of  the  north  wind,  which  chilled  the 
people  of  Hellas  (Greece).  Their  country  was  inac¬ 
cessible  by  land  or  sea.  They  lived  exempt  from  dis¬ 
ease  or  old  age,  from  toils  and  warfare.  Moore  has 
given  us  the  “Song  of  a  Hyperborean,”  beginning 

“I  come  from  a  land  in  the  sun-bright  deep, 

Where  golden  gardens  glow, 

Where  the  winds  of  the  north,  becalmed  in  sleep, 

Their  conch  shells  never  blow.” 

On  the  south  side  of  the  earth,  close  to  the  stream 
of  Ocean,  dwelt  a  people  happy  and  virtuous  as  the 
Hyperboreans.  They  were  named  the  ^Ethiopians.  The 
gods  favored  them  so  highly  that  they  were  wont  to 
leave  at  times  their  Olympian  abodes  and  go  to  share 
their  sacrifices  and  banquets. 

On  the  western  margin  of  the  earth,  by  the  stream  of 
Ocean,  lay  a  happy  place  named  the  Elysian  Plain, 
whither  mortals  favored  by  the  gods  were  transported 
without  tasting  of  death,  to  enjoy  an  immortality  of 
bliss.  This  happy  region  was  also  called  the  “Fortunate 
Fields,”  and  the  “Isles  of  the  Blessed.” 

We  thus  see  that  the  Greeks  of  the  early  ages  knew 
little  of  any  real  people  except  those  to  the  east  and 
south  of  their  own  country,  or  near  the  coast  of  the 
Mediterranean.  Their  imagination  meantime  peopled 
the  western  portion  of  this  sea  with  giants,  monsters, 
and  enchantresses ;  while  they  placed  around  the  disk 
of  the  earth,  which  they  probably  regarded  as  of  no 


INTRODUCTION 


3 


great  width,  nations  enjoying  the  peculiar  favor  of  the 
gods,  and  blessed  with  happiness  and  longevity. 

The  Dawn,  the  Sun,  and  the  Moon  were  supposed 
to  rise  out  of  the  Ocean,  on  the  eastern  side,  and  to 
drive  through  the  air,  giving  light  to  gods  and  men. 
The  stars,  also,  except  those  forming  the  Wain  or  Bear, 
and  others  near  them,  rose  out  of  and  sank  into  the 
stream  of  Ocean.  There  the  sun-god  embarked  in  a 
winged  boat,  which  conveyed  him  round  by  the  north¬ 
ern  part  of  the  earth,  back  to  his  place  of  rising  in  the 
east.  Milton  alludes  to  this  in  his  “Comus” : 

“Now  the  gilded  car  of  day 
His  golden  axle  doth  allay 
In  the  steep  Atlantic  stream, 

And  the  slope  Sun  his  upward  beam 
Shoots  against  the  dusky  pole, 

Pacing  towards  the  other  goal 
Of  his  chamber  in  the  east/' 

The  abode  of  the  gods  was  on  the  summit  of  Mount 
Olympus,  in  Thessaly.  A  gate  of  clouds,  kept  by  the 
goddesses  named  the  Seasons,  opened  to  permit  the  pas¬ 
sage  of  the  Celestials  to  earth,  and  to  receive  them  on 
their  return.  The  gods  had  their  separate  dwellings ;  but 
all,  when  summoned,  repaired  to  the  palace  of  Jupiter, 
as  did  also  those  deities  whose  usual  abode  was  the 
earth,  the  waters,  or  the  underworld.  It  was  also  in 
the  great  hall  of  the  palace  of  the  Olympian  king  that 
the  gods  feasted  each  day  on  ambrosia  and  nectar,  their 
food  and  drink,  the  latter  being  handed  round  by  the 
lovely  goddess  Hebe.  Here  they  conversed  of  the  af-(, 
fairs  of  heaven  and  earth;  and  as  they  quaffed  their 
nectar,  Apollo,  the  god  of  music,  delighted  them  with  the 
tones  of  his  lyre,  to  which  the  Muses  sang  in  responsive 
strains.  When  the  sun  was  set,  the  gods  retired  to  sleep 
in  their  respective  dwellings. 

The  following  lines  from  the  “Odyssey”  will  show 
how  Homer  conceived  of  Olympus : 

“So  saying,  Minerva,  goddess  azure-eyed, 

Rose  to  Olympus,  the  reputed  seat 
Eternal  of  the  gods,  which  never  storms 


4 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


Disturb,  rains  drench,  or  snow  invades,  but  calm 
The  expanse  and  cloudless  shines  with  purest  day. 

There  the  inhabitants  divine  rejoice 

Forever.”  Cowper. 

The  robes  and  other  parts  of  the  dress  of  the  god¬ 
desses  were  woven  by  Minerva  and  the  Graces  and 
everything  of  a  more  solid  nature  was  formed  of  the 
various  metals.  Vulcan  was  architect,  smith,  armorer, 
chariot  builder,  and  artist  of  all  work  in  Olympus.  He 
built  of  brass  the  houses  of  the  gods ;  he  made  for  them 
the  golden  shoes  with  which  they  trod  the  air  or  the 
water,  and  moved  from  place  to  place  with  the  speed 
of  the  wind,  or  even  of  thought.  He  also  shod  with 
brass  the  celestial  steeds,  which  whirled  the  chariots  of 
the  gods  through  the  air,  or  along  the  surface  of  the 
sea.  He  was  able  to  bestow  on  his  workmanship  self- 
motion,  so  that  the  tripods  (chairs  and  tables)  could 
move  of  themselves  in  and  out  of  the  celestial  hall.  He 
even  endowed  with  intelligence  the  golden  handmaidens 
whom  he  made  to  wait  on  himself. 

Jupiter,  or  Jove  (Zeus1),  though  called  the  father  of 
gods  and  men,  had  himself  a  beginning.  Saturn  (Cro¬ 
nos)  was  his  father,  and  Rhea  (Ops)  his  mother.  Sat¬ 
urn  and  Rhea  were  of  the  race  of  Titans,  who  were 
the  children  of  Earth  and  Heaven,  which  sprang  from 
Chaos,  of  which  we  shall  give  a  further  account  in  our 
next  chapter. 

There  is  another  cosmogony,  or  account  of  the  crea¬ 
tion,  according  to  which  Earth,  Erebus,  and  Love  were 
the  first  of  beings.  Love  (Eros)  issued  from  the  egg 
of  Night,  which  floated  on  Chaos.  By  his  arrows  and 
torch  he  pierced  and  vivified  all  things,  producing  life 
and  joy. 

Saturn  and  Rhea  were  not  the  only  Titans.  There 
were  others,  whose  names  were  Oceanus,  Hyperion, 
Iapetus,  and  Ophion,  males;  and  Themis,  Mnemosyne, 
Eurynome,  females.  They  are  spoken  of  as  the  elder 
gods,  whose  dominion  was  afterwards  transferred  to 
others.  Saturn  yielded  to  Jupiter,  Oceanus  to  Nep- 

1  The  names  included  in  parentheses  are  the  Greek,  the  others  being  the 
Roman  or  Latin  names. 


INTRODUCTION 


5 


tune,  Hyperion  to  Apollo.  Hyperion  was  the  father 
of  the  Sun,  Moon,  and  Dawn.  He  is  therefore  the 
original  sun-god,  and  is  painted  with  the  splendor  and 
beauty  which  were  afterwards  bestowed  on  Apollo. 

“Hyperion’s  curls,  the  front  of  Jove  himself.” 

Shakspeare. 

Ophion  and  Eurynome  ruled  over  Olympus  till  they 
were  dethroned  by  Saturn  and  Rhea.  Milton  alludes 
to  them  in  “Paradise  Lost/’  He  says  the  heathens  seem 
to  have  had  some  knowledge  of  the  temptation  and  fall 
of  man. 

“And  fabled  how  the  serpent,  whom  they  called 
Ophion,  with  Eurynome,  (the  wide- 
Encroaching  Eve  perhaps,)  had  first  the  rule 
Of  high  Olympus,  thence  by  Saturn  driven.” 

The  representations  given  of  Saturn  are  not  very 
consistent;  for  on  the  one  hand  his  reign  is  said  to  have 
been  the  golden  age  of  innocence  and  purity,  and  on  the 
other  he  is  described  as  a  monster  who  devoured  his 
children.1  Jupiter,  however,  escaped  this  fate,  and  when 
grown  up  espoused  Metis  (Prudence),  who  adminis¬ 
tered  a  draught  to  Saturn  which  caused  him  to  disgorge 
his  children.  Jupiter,  with  his  brothers  and  sisters,  now 
rebelled  against  their  father  Saturn  and  his  brothers 
the  Titans;  vanquished  them,  and  imprisoned  some  of 
them  in  Tartarus,  inflicting  other  penalties  on  others. 
Atlas  was  condemned  to  bear  up  the  heavens  on  his 
shoulders. 

On  the  dethronement  of  Saturn,  Jupiter  with  his 
brothers  Neptune  (Poseidon)  and  Pluto  (Dis)  divided 
his  dominions.  Jupiter’s  portion  was  the  heavens,  Nep¬ 
tune’s  the  ocean,  and  Pluto’s  the  realms  of  the  dead. 
Earth  and  Olympus  were  common  property.  Jupiter 
was  king  of  gods  and  men.  The  thunder  was  his  weap¬ 
on,  and  he  bore  a  shield  called  JEgis,  made  for  him  by 

1  This  inconsistency  arises  from  considering  the  Saturn  of  the  Romans 
the  same  with  the  Grecian  deity  Cronos  (Time),  which,  as  it  brings 
an  end  to  all  things  which  have  had  a  beginning,  may  be  said  to  devour 
its  own  offspring. 


6 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


Vulcan.  The  eagle  was  his  favorite  bird,  and  bore  his 
thunderbolts. 

Juno  (Hera)  was  the  wife  of  Jupiter,  and  queen  of 
the  gods.  Iris,  the  goddess  of  the  rainbow,  was  her 
attendant  and  messenger.  The  peacock  was  her  favorite 
bird. 

Vulcan  (Hephsestos),  the  celestial  artist,  was  the  son 
of  Jupiter  and  Juno.  He  was  born  lame,  and  his 
mother  was  so  displeased  at  the  sight  of  him  that  she 
flung  him  out  of  heaven.  Other  accounts  say  that 
Jupiter  kicked  him  out  for  taking  part  with  his  mother 
in  a  quarrel  which  occurred  between  them.  Vulcan’s 
lameness,  according  to  this  account,  was  the  consequence 
of  his  fall.  He  was  a  whole  day  falling,  and  at  last 
alighted  in  the  island  of  Lemnos,  which  was  thence¬ 
forth  sacred  to  him.  Milton  alludes  to  this  story  in 
“Paradise  Lost,”  Book  I. : 

“  .  .  .  From  morn 

To  noon  he  fell,  from  noon  to  dewy  eve, 

A  summer’s  day;  and  with  the  setting  sun 
Dropped  from  the  zenith,  like  a  falling  star, 

On  Lemnos,  the  ^Egean  isle.” 

Mars  (Ares),  the  god  of  war,  was  the  son  of 
Jupiter  and  Juno. 

Phoebus  Apollo,  the  god  of  archery,  prophecy,  and 
music,  was  the  son  of  Jupiter  and  Latona,  and  brother 
of  Diana  (Artemis).  He  was  god  of  the  sun,  as  Diana, 
his  sister,  was  the  goddess  of  the  moon. 

Venus  (Aphrodite),  the  goddess  of  love  and  beauty, 
was  the  daughter  of  Jupiter  and  Dione.  Others  say 
that  Venus  sprang  from  the  foam  of  the  sea.  The  zephyr 
wafted  her  along  the  waves  to  the  Isle  of  Cyprus,  where 
she  was  received  and  attired  by  the  Seasons,  and  then 
led  to  the  assembly  of  the  gods.  All  were  charmed 
with  her  beauty,  and  each  one  demanded  her  for  his 
wife.  Jupiter  gave  her  to  Vulcan,  in  gratitude  for  the 
service  he  had  rendered  in  forging  thunderbolts.  So 
the  most  beautiful  of  the  goddesses  became  the  wife  of 
the  most  ill-favored  of  gods.  Venus  possessed  an  em¬ 
broidered  girdle  called  Cestus,  which  had  the  power  of 


INTRODUCTION 


7 


inspiring  love.  Her  favorite  birds  were  swans  and 
doves,  and  the  plants  sacred  to  her  were  the  rose  and 
the  myrtle. 

Cupid  (Eros),  the  god  of  love,  was  the  son  of  Venus. 
He  was  her  constant  companion;  and,  armed  with  bow 
and  arrows,  he  shot  the  darts  of  desire  into  the  bosoms 
of  both  gods  and  men.  There  was  a  deity  named  An- 
teros,  who  was  sometimes  represented  as  the  avenger 
of  slighted  love,  and  sometimes  as  the  symbol  of  re¬ 
ciprocal  affection.  The  following  legend  is  told  of  him: 

Venus,  complaining  to  Themis  that  her  son  Eros  con¬ 
tinued  always  a  child,  was  told  by  her  that  it  was  be¬ 
cause  he  was  solitary,  and  that  if  he  had  a  brother  he 
would  grow  apace.  Anteros  was  soon  afterwards  born, 
and  Eros  immediately  was  seen  to  increase  rapidly  in 
size  and  strength. 

Minerva  (Pallas,  Athene),  the  goddess  of  wisdom, 
was  the  offspring  of  Jupiter,  without  a  mother.  She 
sprang  forth  from  his  head  completely  armed.  Her 
favorite  bird  was  the  owl,  and  the  plant  sacred  to  her 
the  olive. 

Byron,  in  “Childe  Harold,”  alludes  to  the  birth  of 
Minerva  thus : 

“Can  tyrants  but  by  tyrants  conquered  be, 

And  Freedom  find  no  champion  and  no  child, 

Such  as  Columbia  saw  arise,  when  she 
Sprang  forth  a  Pallas,  armed  and  undefiled? 

Or  must  such  minds  be  nourished  in  the  wild, 

Deep  in  the  unpruned  forest,  ’midst  the  roar 
Of  cataracts,  where  nursing  Nature  smiled 
On  infant  Washington?  Has  earth  no  more 
Such  seeds  within  her  breast,  or  Europe  no  such  shore?” 

Mercury  (Hermes)  was  the  son  of  Jupiter  and  Maia. 
He  presided  over  commerce,  wrestling,  and  other  gym¬ 
nastic  exercises,  even  over  thieving,  and  everything,  in 
short,  which  required  skill  and  dexterity.  He  was  the 
messenger  of  Jupiter,  and  wore  a  winged  cap  and  winged 
shoes.  He  bore  in  his  hand  a  rod  entwined  with  two 
serpents,  called  the  caduceus. 

Mercury  is  said  to  have  invented  the  lyre.  He 
found,  one  day,  a  tortoise,  of  which  he  took  the  shell, 


8 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


made  holes  in  the  opposite  edges  of  it,  and  drew  cords 
of  linen  through  them,  and  the  instrument  was  com¬ 
plete.  The  cords  were  nine,  in  honor  of  the  nine  Muses. 
Mercury  gave  the  lyre  to  Apollo,  and  received  from 
him  in  exchange  the  caduceus.1 

Ceres  (Demeter)  was  the  daughter  of  Saturn  and 
Rhea.  She  had  a  daughter  named  Proserpine  (Per¬ 
sephone),  who  became  the  wife  of  Pluto,  and  queen 
of  the  realms  of  the  dead.  Ceres  presided  over  agri¬ 
culture. 

Bacchus  (Dionysus),  the  god  of  wine,  was  the  son 
of  Jupiter  and  Semele.  He  represents  not  only  the  in¬ 
toxicating  power  of  wine,  but  its  social  and  beneficent 
influences  likewise,  so  that  he  is  viewed  as  the  pro¬ 
moter  of  civilization,  and  a  lawgiver  and  lover  of  peace. 

The  Muses  were  the  daughters  of  Jupiter  and  Mne¬ 
mosyne  (Memory).  They  presided  over  song,  and 
prompted  the  memory.  They  were  nine  in  number, 
to  each  of  whom  was  assigned  the  presidence  over 
some  particular  department  of  literature,  art,  or  science. 
Calliope  was  the  muse  of  epic  poetry,  Clio  of  history, 
Euterpe  of  lyric  poetry,  Melpomene  of  tragedy,  Terp¬ 
sichore  of  choral  dance  and  song,  Erato  of  love  poetry, 
Polyhymnia  of  sacred  poetry,  Urania  of  astronomy, 
Thalia  of  comedy. 

The  Graces  were  goddesses  presiding  over  the  ban¬ 
quet,  the  dance,  and  all  social  enjoyments  and  elegant 
arts.  They  were  three  in  number.  Their  names  were 
Euphrosyne,  Aglaia,  and  Thalia. 

Spenser  describes  the  office  of  the  Graces  thus : 

“These  three  on  men  all  gracious  gifts  bestow 
Which  deck  the  body  or  adorn  the  mind, 

To  make  them  lovely  or  well-favored  show; 

As  comely  carriage,  entertainment  kind, 

Sweet  semblance,  friendly  offices  that  bind, 

And  all  the  complements  of  courtesy; 

1  From  this  origin  of  the  instrument,  the  word  “shell”  is  often  used  as 
synonymous  with  “lyre,”  and  figuratively  for  music  and  poetry.  Thus 
Gray,  in  his  ode  on  the  “Progress  of  Poesy,”  says: 

“O  Sovereign  of  the  willing  Soul, 

Parent  of  sweet  and  solemn-breathing  airs, 

Enchanting  shell!  the  sullen  Cares 

And  frantic  Passions  hear  thy  soft  control.” 


INTRODUCTION 


9 


They  teach  us  how  to  each  degree  and  kind 
We  should  ourselves  demean,  to  low,  to  high, 

To  friends,  to  foes;  which  skill  men  call  Civility.” 

The  Fates  were  also  three — Clotho,  Lachesis,  and 
Atropos.  Their  office  was  to  spin  the  thread  of  human 
destiny,  and  they  were  armed  with  shears,  with  which 
they  cut  it  off  when  they  pleased.  They  were  the 
daughters  of  Themis  (Law),  who  sits  by  Jove  on  his 
throne  to  give  him  counsel. 

The  Erinnyes,  or  Furies,  were  three  goddesses  who 
punished  by  their  secret  stings  the  crimes  of  those  who 
escaped  or  defied  public  justice.  The  heads  of  the 
Furies  were  wreathed  with  serpents,  and  their  whole 
appearance  was  terrific  and  appalling.  Their  names 
were  Alecto,  Tisiphone,  and  Megaera.  They  were  also 
called  Eumenides. 

Nemesis  was  also  an  avenging  goddess.  She  repre¬ 
sents  the  righteous  anger  of  the  gods,  particularly 
towards  the  proud  and  insolent. 

Pan  was  the  god  of  flocks  and  shepherds.  His  fa¬ 
vorite  residence  was  in  Arcadia. 

The  Satyrs  were  deities  of  the  woods  and  fields. 
They  were  conceived  to  be  covered  with  bristly  hair, 
their  heads  decorated  with  short,  sprouting  horns,  and 
their  feet  like  goats’  feet. 

Momus  was  the  god  of  laughter,  and  Plutus  the  god 
of  wealth. 


ROMAN  DIVINITIES 

The  preceding  are  Grecian  divinities,  though  received 
also  by  the  Romans.  Those  which  follow  are  peculiar 
to  Roman  mythology : 

Saturn  was  an  ancient  Italian  deity.  It  was  at¬ 
tempted  to  identify  him  with  the  Grecian  god  Cronos, 
and  fabled  that  after  his  dethronement  by  Jupiter  he 
fled  to  Italy,  where  he  reigned  during  what  was  called 
the  Golden  Age.  In  memory  of  his  beneficent  do¬ 
minion,  the  feast  of  Saturnalia  was  held  every  year  in 
the  winter  season.  Then  all  public  business  was  sus¬ 
pended,  declarations  of  war  and  criminal  executions 


10 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


were  postponed,  friends  made  presents  to  one  another, 
and  the  slaves  were  indulged  with  great  liberties.  A. 
feast  was  given  them  at  which  they  sat  at  table,  while 
their  masters  served  them,  to  show  the  natural  equality 
of  men,  and  that  all  things  belonged  equally  to  all,  in 
the  reign  of  Saturn. 

Faunus,1  the  grandson  of  Saturn,  was  worshipped  as 
the  god  of  fields  and  shepherds,  and  also  as  a  pro¬ 
phetic  god.  His  name  in  the  plural,  Fauns,  expressed 
a  class  of  gamesome  deities,  like  the  Satyrs  of  the 
Greeks. 

Quirinus  was  a  war  god,  said  to  be  no  other  than 
Romulus,  the  founder  of  Rome,  exalted  after  his  death 
to  a  place  among  the  gods. 

Bellona,  a  war  goddess. 

Terminus,  the  god  of  landmarks.  His  statue  was  a 
rude  stone  or  post,  set  in  the  ground  to  mark  the  boun¬ 
daries  of  fields. 

Pales,  the  goddess  presiding  over  cattle  and  pas¬ 
tures. 

Pomona  presided  over  fruit  trees. 

Flora,  the  goddess  of  flowers. 

Lucina,  the  goddess  of  childbirth. 

Vesta  (the  Hestia  of  the  Greeks)  was  a  deity  pre¬ 
siding  over  the  public  and  private  hearth.  A  sacred 
fire,  tended  by  six  virgin  priestesses  called  Vestals, 
flamed  in  her  temple.  As  the  safety  of  the  city  was 
held  to  be  connected  with  its  conservation,  the  neglect 
of  the  virgins,  if  they  let  it  go  out,  was  severely  pun¬ 
ished,  and  the  fire  was  rekindled  from  the  rays  of  the 
sun. 

Liber  is  the  Latin  name  of  Bacchus;  and  Mulciber 
of  Vulcan. 

Janus  was  the  porter  of  heaven.  He  opens  the  year, 
the  first  month  being  named  after  him.  He  is  the 
guardian  deity  of  gates,  on  which  account  he  is  com¬ 
monly  represented  with  two  heads,  because  every  door 
looks  two  ways.  His  temples  at  Rome  were  numer¬ 
ous.  In  war  time  the  gates  of  the  principal  one  were 
always  open.  In  peace  they  were  closed ;  but  they 

1  There  was  also  a  goddess  called  Fauna,  or  Bona  Dea. 


INTRODUCTION 


11 


were  shut  only  once  between  the  reign  of  Numa  and 
that  of  Augustus. 

The  Penates  were  the  gods  who  were  supposed  to 
attend  to  the  welfare  and  prosperity  of  the  family. 
Their  name  is  derived  from  Penus,  the  pantry,  which 
was  sacred  to  them.  Every  master  of  a  family  was 
the  priest  to  the  Penates  of  his  own  house. 

The  Lares,  or  Lars,  were  also  household  gods,  but 
differed  from  the  Penates  in  being  regarded  as  the  dei¬ 
fied  spirits  of  mortals.  The  family  Lars  were  held  to 
be  the  souls  of  the  ancestors,  who  watched  over  and 
protected  their  descendants.  The  words  Lemur  and 
Larva  more  nearly  correspond  to  our  word  Ghost. 

The  Romans  believed  that  every  man  had  his  Genius, 
and  every  woman  her  Juno:  that  is,  a  spirit  who  had 
given  them  being,  and  was  regarded  as  their  protector 
through  life.  On  their  birthdays  men  made  offerings 
to  their  Genius,  women  to  their  Juno. 

A  modern  poet  thus  alludes  to  some  of  the  Roman 
gods : 

“Pomona  loves  the  orchard, 

And  Liber  loves  the  vine, 

And  Pales  loves  the  straw-built  shed 
Warm  with  the  breath  of  kine; 

And  Venus  loves  the  whisper 
Of  plighted  youth  and  maid, 

In  April’s  ivory  moonlight, 

Beneath  the  chestnut  shade.” 

— Macaulay,  “Prophecy  of  Capys.” 


N.B. — It  is  to  be  observed  that  in  proper  names  the 
final  e  and  es  are  to  be  sounded.  Thus  Cybele  and 
Penates  are  words  of  three  syllables.  But  Proserpine 
and  Thebes  are  exceptions,  and  to  be  pronounced  as 
English  words.  In  the  Index  at  the  close  of  the  vol¬ 
ume  we  shall  mark  the  accented  syllable  in  all  words 
which  appear  to  require  it. 


12  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


CHAPTER  II 

PROMETHEUS  AND  PANDORA 

The  creation  of  the  world  is  a  problem  naturally 
fitted  to  excite  the  liveliest  interest  of  man,  its  inhabi¬ 
tant.  The  ancient  pagans,  not  having  the  information 
on  the  subject  which  we  derive  from  the  pages  of  Scrip¬ 
ture,  had  their  own  way  of  telling  the  story,  which  is 
as  follows: 

Before  earth  and  sea  and  heaven  were  created,  all 
things  wore  one  aspect,  to  which  we  give  the  name  of 
Chaos — a  confused  and  shapeless  mass,  nothing  but 
dead  weight,  in  which,  however,  slumbered  the  seeds  of 
things.  Earth,  sea,  and  air  were  all  mixed  up  together; 
so  the  earth  was  not  solid,  the  sea  was  not  fluid,  and 
the  air  was  not  transparent.  God  and  Nature  at  last 
interposed,  and  put  an  end  to  this  discord,  separating 
earth  from  sea,  and  heaven  from  both.  The  fiery  part, 
being  the  lightest,  sprang  up,  and  formed  the  skies;  the 
air  was  next  in  weight  and  place.  The  earth,  being 
heavier,  sank  below ;  and  the  water  took  the  lowest  place, 
and  buoyed  up  the  earth. 

Here  some  god — it  is  not  known  which — gave  his 
good  offices  in  arranging  and  disposing  the  earth.  He 
appointed  rivers  and  bays  their  places,  raised  mountains, 
scooped  out  valleys,  distributed  woods,  fountains,  fertile 
fields,  and  stony  plains.  The  air  being  cleared,  the  stars 
began  to  appear,  fishes  took  possession  of  the  sea,  birds 
of  the  air,  and  four-footed  beasts  of  the  land. 

But  a  nobler  animal  was  wanted,  and  Man  was  made. 
It  is  not  known  whether  the  creator  made  him  of  divine 
materials,  or  whether  in  the  earth,  so  lately  separated 
from  heaven,  there  lurked  still  some  heavenly  seeds. 
Prometheus  took  some  of  this  earth,  and  kneading 
it  up  with  water,  made  man  in  the  image  of  the  gods. 
He  gave  him  an  upright  stature,  so  that  while  all  other 
animals  turn  their  faces  downward,  and  look  to  the 
earth,  he  raises  his  to  heaven,  and  gazes  on  the  stars. 


PROMETHEUS  AND  PANDORA 


13 


Prometheus  was  one  of  the  Titans,  a  gigantic  race, 
who  inhabited  the  earth  before  the  creation  of  man. 
To  him  and  his  brother  Epimetheus  was  committed 
the  office  of  making  man,  and  providing  him  and  all 
other  animals  with  the  faculties  necessary  for  their 
preservation.  Epimetheus  undertook  to  do  this,  and 
Prometheus  was  to  overlook  his  work,  when  it  was 
done.  Epimetheus  accordingly  proceeded  to  bestow 
upon  the  different  animals  the  various  gifts  of  courage, 
strength,  swiftness,  sagacity;  wings  to  one,  claws  to  an¬ 
other,  a  shelly  covering  to  a  third,  etc.  But  when  man 
came  to  be  provided  for,  who  was  to  be  superior  to 
all  other  animals,  Epimetheus  had  been  so  prodigal  of 
his  resources  that  he  had  nothing  left  to  bestow  upon 
him.  In  his  perplexity  he  resorted  to  his  brother 
Prometheus,  who,  with  the  aid  of  Minerva,  went  up 
to  heaven,  and  lighted  his  torch  at  the  chariot  of  the 
sun,  and  brought  down  fire  to  man.  With  this  gift 
man  was  more  than  a  match  for  all  other  animals.  It 
enabled  him  to  make  weapons  wherewith  to  subdue 
them;  tools  with  which  to  cultivate  the  earth;  to  warm 
his  dwelling,  so  as  to  be  comparatively  independent  of 
climate;  and  finally  to  introduce  the  arts  and  to  coin 
money,  the  means  of  trade  and  commerce. 

Woman  was  not  yet  made.  The  story  (absurd 
enough!)  is  that  Jupiter  made  her,  and  sent  her  to 
Prometheus  and  his  brother,  to  punish  them  for  their 
presumption  in  stealing  fire  from  heaven;  and  man, 
for  accepting  the  gift.  The  first  woman  was  named 
Pandora.  She  was  made  in  heaven,  every  god  con¬ 
tributing  something  to  perfect  her.  Venus  gave  her 
beauty,  Mercury  persuasion,  Apollo  music,  etc.  Thus 
equipped,  she  was  conveyed  to  earth,  and  presented  to 
Epimetheus,  who  gladly  accepted  her,  though  cautioned 
by  his  brother  to  beware  of  Jupiter  and  his  gifts. 
Epimetheus  had  in  his  house  a  jar,  in  which  were  kept 
certain  noxious  articles,  for  which,  in  fitting  man  for 
his  new  abode,  he  had  had  no  occasion.  Pandora  was 
seized  with  an  eager  curiosity  to  know  what  this  jar 
contained;  and  one  day  she  slipped  off  the  cover  and 
looked  in.  Forthwith  there  escaped  a  multitude  of 


14 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


plagues  for  hapless  man, — such  as  gout,  rheumatism, 
and  colic  for  his  body,  and  envy,  spite,  and  revenge  for 
his  mind, — and  scattered  themselves  far  and  wide. 
Pandora  hastened  to  replace  the  lid !  but,  alas !  the  whole 
contents  of  the  jar  had  escaped,  one  thing  only  ex¬ 
cepted,  which  lay  at  the  bottom,  and  that  was  hope . 
So  we  see  at  this  day,  whatever  evils  are  abroad,  hope 
never  entirely  leaves  us ;  and  while  we  have  that,  no 
amount  of  other  ills  can  make  us  completely  wretched. 

Another  story  is  that  Pandora  was  sent  in  good  faith, 
by  Jupiter,  to  bless  man;  that  she  was  furnished  with 
a  box,  containing  her  marriage  presents,  into  which 
every  god  had  put  some  blessing.  She  opened  the  box 
incautiously,  and  the  blessings  all  escaped,  hope  only  ex¬ 
cepted.  This  story  seems  more  probable  than  the  for¬ 
mer;  for  how  could  hope,  so  precious  a  jewel  as  it  is, 
have  been  kept  in  a  jar  full  of  all  manner  of  evils,  as 
in  the  former  statement? 

The  world  being  thus  furnished  with  inhabitants,  the 
first  age  was  an  age  of  innocence  and  happiness,  called 
the  Golden  Age.  Truth  and  right  prevailed,  though  not 
enforced  by  law,  nor  was  there  any  magistrate  to 
threaten  or  punish.  The  forest  had  not  yet  been  robbed 
of  its  trees  to  furnish  timbers  for  vessels,  nor  had  men 
built  fortifications  round  their  towns.  There  were  no 
such  things  as  swords,  spears,  or  helmets.  The  earth 
brought  forth  all  things  necessary  for  man,  without  his 
labor  in  ploughing  or  sowing.  Perpetual  spring  reigned, 
flowers  sprang  up  without  seed,  the  rivers  flowed  with 
milk  and  wine,  and  yellow  honey  distilled  from  the  oaks. 

Then  succeeded  the  Silver  Age ,  inferior  to  the  golden, 
but  better  than  that  of  brass.  Jupiter  shortened  the 
spring,  and  divided  the  year  into  seasons.  Then,  first, 
men  had  to  endure  the  extremes  of  heat  and  cold,  and 
houses  became  necessary.  Caves  were  the  first  dwell¬ 
ings,  and  leafy  coverts  of  the  woods,  and  huts  woven 
of  twigs.  Crops  would  no  longer  grow  without  plant¬ 
ing.  The  farmer  was  obliged  to  sow  the  seed  and  the 
tolling  ox  to  draw  the  plough. 

Next  came  the  Brazen  Age,  more  savage  of  temper, 
and  readier  to  the  strife  of  arms,  yet  not  altogether 


PROMETHEUS  AND  PANDORA 


15 


wicked.  The  hardest  and  worst  was  the  Iron  Age. 
Crime  burst  in  like  a  flood;  modesty,  truth,  and  honor 
fled.  In  their  places  came  fraud  and  cunning,  violence, 
and  the  wicked  love  of  gain.  Then  seamen  spread  sails 
to  the  wind,  and  the  trees  were  torn  from  the  moun¬ 
tains  to  serve  for  keels  to  ships,  and  vex  the  face  of 
ocean.  The  earth,  which  till  now  had  been  cultivated 
in  common,  began  to  be  divided  off  into  possessions. 
Men  were  not  satisfied  with  what  the  surface  produced, 
but  must  dig  into  its  bowels,  and  draw  forth  from 
thence  the  ores  of  metals.  Mischievous  iron,  and  more 
mischievous  gold ,  were  produced.  War  sprang  up, 
using  both  as  weapons ;  the  guest  was  not  safe  in  his 
friend’s  house;  and  sons-in-law  and  fathers-in-law, 
brothers  and  sisters,  husbands  and  wives,  could  not  trust 
one  another.  Sons  wished  their  fathers  dead,  that  they 
might  come  to  the  inheritance;  family  love  lay  pros¬ 
trate.  The  earth  was  wet  with  slaughter,  and  the  gods 
abandoned  it,  one  by  one,  till  Astraea1  alone  was  left, 
and  finally  she  also  took  her  departure. 

Jupiter,  seeing  this  state  of  things,  burned  with  anger. 
He  summoned  the  gods  to  council.  They  obeyed  the 
call,  and  took  the  road  to  the  palace  of  heaven.  The 
road,  which  any  one  may  see  in  a  clear  night,  stretches 
across  the  face  of  the  sky,  and  is  called  the  Milky  Way. 
Along  the  road  stand  the  palaces  of  the  illustrious  gods ; 
the  common  people  of  the  skies  live  apart,  on  either 
side.  Jupiter  addressed  the  assembly.  He  set  forth 
the  frightful  condition  of  things  on  the  earth,  and  closed 
by  announcing  his  intention  to  destroy  the  whole  of  its 
inhabitants,  and  provide  a  new  race,  unlike  the  first, 

1  The  goddess  of  innocence  and  purity.  After  leaving  earth,  she  was 
placed  among  the  stars,  where  she  became  the  constellation  Virgo — the 
Virgin.  Themis  (Justice)  was  the  mother  of  Astraea.  She  is  represented 
as  holding  aloft  a  pair  of  scales,  in  which  she  weighs  the  claims  of  oppos¬ 
ing  parties. 

It  was  a  favorite  idea  of  the  old  poets  that  these  goddesses  would 
one  day  return,  and  bring  back  the  Golden  Age.  Even  in  a  Christian 
hymn,  the  “Messiah”  of  Pope,  this  idea  occurs: 

“All  crimes  shall  cease,  and  ancient  fraud  shall  fail, 

Returning  Justice  lift  aloft  her  scale. 

Peace  o'er  the  world  her  olive  wand  extend, 

And  white-robed  Innocence  from  heaven  descend.” 

See,  also,  Milton’s  “Hymn  on  the  Nativity,”  stanzas  xiv.  and  xv. 


16 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


who  would  be  more  worthy  of  life,  and  much  better 
worshippers  of  the  gods.  So  saying  he  took  a  thunder¬ 
bolt,  and  was  about  to  launch  it  at  the  world,  and 
destroy  it  by  burning;  but  recollecting  the  danger  that 
such  a  conflagration  might  set  heaven  itself  on  fire,  he 
changed  his  plan,  and  resolved  to  drown  it.  The  north 
wind,  which  scatters  the  clouds,  was  chained  up;  the 
south  was  sent  out,  and  soon  covered  all  the  face  of 
heaven  with  a  cloak  of  pitchy  darkness.  The  clouds, 
driven  together,  resound  with  a  crash;  torrents  of  rain 
fall;  the  crops  are  laid  low;  the  year’s  labor  of  the 
husbandman  perishes  in  an  hour.  Jupiter,  not  satisfied 
with  his  own  waters,  calls  on  his  brother  Neptune  to 
aid  him  with  his.  He  lets  loose  the  rivers,  and  pours 
them  over  the  land.  At  the  same  time,  he  heaves  the 
land  with  an  earthquake,  and  brings  in  the  reflux  of 
the  ocean  over  the  shores.  Flocks,  herds,  men,  and 
houses  are  swept  away,  and  temples,  with  their  sacred 
enclosures,  profaned.  If  any  edifice  remained  stand¬ 
ing,  it  was  overwhelmed,  and  its  turrets  lay  hid  beneath 
the  waves.  Now  all  was  sea,  sea  without  shore.  Here 
and  there  an  individual  remained  on  a  projecting  hill¬ 
top,  and  a  few,  in  boats,  pulled  the  oar  where  they  had 
lately  driven  the  plough.  The  fishes  swim  among  the 
tree-tops ;  the  anchor  is  let  down  into  a  garden.  Where 
the  graceful  lambs  played  but  now,  unwieldy  sea  calves 
gambol.  The  wolf  swims  among  the  sheep,  the  yellow 
lions  and  tigers  struggle  in  the  water.  The  strength 
of  the  wild  boar  serves  him  not,  nor  his  swiftness  the 
stag.  The  birds  fall  with  weary  wing  into  the  water,] 
having  found  no  land  for  a  resting-place.  Those  living 
beings  whom  the  water  spared  fell  a  prey  to  hunger. 

Parnassus  alone,  of  all  the  mountains,  overtopped 
the  waves ;  and  there  Deucalion,  and  his  wife  Pyrrha, 
of  the  race  of  Prometheus,  found  refuge — he  a  just 
man,  and  she  a  faithful  worshipper  of  the  gods.  Jupi¬ 
ter,  when  he  saw  none  left  alive  but  this  pair,  and  re¬ 
membered  their  harmless  lives  and  pious  demeanor, 
ordered  the  north  winds  to  drive  away  the  clouds,  and 
disclose  the  skies  to  earth,  and  earth  to  the  skies. 
Neptune  also  directed  Triton  to  blow  on  his  shell,  and 


PROMETHEUS  AND  PANDORA 


17 


sound  a  retreat  to  the  waters.  The  waters  obeyed,  and 
the  sea  returned  to  its  shores,  and  the  rivers  to  their 
channels.  Then  Deucalion  thus  addressed  Pyrrha:  “O 
wife,  only  surviving  woman,  joined  to  me  first  by  the 
ties  of  kindred  and  marriage,  and  now  by  a  common 
danger,  would  that  we  possessed  the  power  of  our  an¬ 
cestor  Prometheus,  and  could  renew  the  race  as  he  at 
first  made  it!  But  as  we  cannot,  let  us  seek  yonder 
temple,  and  inquire  of  the  gods  what  remains  for  us  to 
do.”  They  entered  the  temple,  deformed  as  it  was  with 
slime,  and  approached  the  altar,  where  no  fire  burned. 
There  they  fell  prostrate  on  the  earth,  and  prayed 
the  goddess  to  inform  them  how  they  might  retrieve 
their  miserable  affairs.  The  oracle  answered,  “Depart 
from  the  temple  with  head  veiled  and  garments  un¬ 
bound,  and  cast  behind  you  the  bones  of  your  mother.” 
They  heard  the  words  with  astonishment.  Pyrrha  first 
broke  silence:  “We  cannot  obey;  we  dare  not  profane 
the  remains  of  our  parents.”  They  sought  the  thick¬ 
est  shades  of  the  wood,  and  revolved  the  oracle  in 
their  minds.  At  length  Deucalion  spoke :  “Either  my 
sagacity  deceives  me,  or  the  command  is  one  we  may 
obey  without  impiety.  The  earth  is  the  great  parent 
of  all ;  the  stones  are  her  bones ;  these  we  may  cast 
behind  us;  and  I  think  this  is  what  the  oracle  means. 
At  least,  it  will  do  no  harm  to  try.”  They  veiled  their 
faces,  unbound  their  garments,  and  picked  up  stones, 
and  cast  them  behind  them.  The  stones  (wonderful 
to  relate)  began  to  grow  soft,  and  assume  shape.  By 
degrees,  they  put  on  a  rude  resemblance  to  the  human 
form,  like  a  block  half-finished  in  the  hands  of  the 
sculptor.  The  moisture  and  slime  that  were  about  them 
became  flesh;  the  stony  part  became  bones;  the  veins 
remained  veins,  retaining  their  name,  only  changing 
their  use.  Those  thrown  by  the  hand  of  the  man  be¬ 
came  men,  and  those  by  the  woman  became  women. 
It  was  a  hard  race,  and  well  adapted  to  labor,  as  we  find 
ourselves  to  be  at  this  day,  giving  plain  indications  of 
our  origin. 

The  comparison  of  Eve  to  Pandora  is  too  obvious  to 


IS 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


have  escaped  Milton,  who  introduces  it  in  Book  IV.  of 
“Paradise  Lost” : 

“More  lovely  than  Pandora,  whom  the  gods 
Endowed  with  all  their  gifts;  and  O,  too  like 
In  sad  event,  when  to  the  unwiser  son 
Of  Japhet  brought  by  Hermes,  she  insnared 
Mankind  with  her  fair  looks,  to  be  avenged 
On  him  who  had  stole  Jove’s  authentic  fire.” 


Prometheus  and  Epimetheus  were  sons  of  Iapetus, 
which  Milton  changes  to  Japhet. 

Prometheus  has  been  a  favorite  subject  with  the  poets. 
He  is  represented  as  the  friend  of  mankind,  who  inter¬ 
posed  in  their  behalf  when  Jove  was  incensed  against 
them,  and  who  taught  them  civilization  and  the  arts. 
But  as,  in  so  doing,  he  transgressed  the  will  of  Jupiter, 
he  drew  down  on  himself  the  anger  of  the  ruler  of 
gods  and  men.  Jupiter  had  him  chained  to  a  rock  on 
Mount  Caucasus,  where  a  vulture  preyed  on  his  liver, 
which  was  renewed  as  fast  as  devoured.  This  state 
of  torment  might  have  been  brought  to  an  end  at  any 
time  by  Prometheus,  if  he  had  been  willing  to  submit 
to  his  oppressor;  for  he  possessed  a  secret  which  in¬ 
volved  the  stability  of  Jove’s  throne,  and  if  he  would 
have  revealed  it,  he  might  have  been  at  once  taken  into 
favor.  But  that  he  disdained  to  do.  He  has  there¬ 
fore  become  the  symbol  of  magnanimous  endurance  of 
unmerited  suffering,  and  strength  of  will  resisting  op¬ 
pression. 

Byron  and  Shelley  have  both  treated  this  theme.  The 
following  are  Byron’s  lines : 


“Titan!  to  whose  immortal  eyes 
The  sufferings  of  mortality, 

Seen  in  their  sad  reality, 

Were  not  as  things  that  gods  despise; 
What  was  thy  pity’s  recompense? 

A  silent  suffering,  and  intense; 

The  rock,  the  vulture,  and  the  chain; 
All  that  the  proud  can  feel  of  pain; 
The  agony  they  do  not  show; 

The  suffocating  sense  of  woe. 


APOLLO  AND  DAPHNE 


19 


“Thy  godlike  crime  was  to  be  kind; 

To  render  with  thy  precepts  less 
The  sum  of  human  wretchedness, 

And  strengthen  man  with  his  own  mind. 

And,  baffled  as  thou  wert  from  high, 

Still,  in  thy  patient  energy 
In  the  endurance  and  repulse 
Of  thine  impenetrable  spirit, 

Which  earth  and  heaven  could  not  convulse, 

A  mighty  lesson  we  inherit.” 

Byron  also  employs  the  same  allusion,  in  his  “Ode 
to  Napoleon  Bonaparte”: 

“Or,  like  the  thief  of  fire  from  heaven, 

Wilt  thou  withstand  the  shock? 

And  share  with  him — the  un  forgiven — 

His  vulture  and  his  rock?” 


CHAPTER  III 

APOLLO  AND  DAPHNE — PYRAMUS  AND  THISBE 
CEPHALUS  AND  PROCRIS 

The  slime  with  which  the  earth  was  covered  by  the 
waters  of  the  flood  produced  an  excessive  fertility, 
which  called  forth  every  variety  of  production,  both  bad 
and  good.  Among  the  rest,  Python,  an  enormous  ser¬ 
pent,  crept  forth,  the  terror  of  the  people,  and  lurked 
in  the  caves  of  Mount  Parnassus.  Apollo  slew  him 
with  his  arrows — weapons  which  he  had  not  before 
used  against  any  but  feeble  animals,  hares,  wild  goats, 
and  such  game.  In  commemoration  of  this  illustrious 
conquest  he  instituted  the  Pythian  games,  in  which  the 
victor  in  feats  of  strength,  swiftness  of  foot,  or  in  the 
chariot  race  was  crowned  with  a  wreath  of  beech 
leaves;  for  the  laurel  was  not  yet  adopted  by  Apollo 
as  his  own  tree. 

The  famous  statue  of  Apollo  called  the  Belvedere 
represents  the  god  after  this  victory  over  the  serpent 
Python.  To  this  Byron  alludes  in  his  “Childe  Harold,” 
tv.,  261 ; 


20 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


“  .  .  .  The  lord  of  the  unerring  bow, 

The  god  of  life,  and  poetry,  and  light, 

The  Sun,  in  human  limbs  arrayed,  and  brow 
All  radiant  from  his  triumph  in  the  fight. 

The  shaft  has  just  been  shot;  the  arrow  bright 
With  an  immortal’s  vengeance;  in  his  eye 
And  nostril,  beautiful  disdain,  and  might 
And  majesty  flash  their  full  lightnings  by, 

Developing  in  that  one  glance  the  Deity.” 

APOLLO  AND  DAPHNE 

Daphne  was  Apollo’s  first  love.  It  was  not  brought 
about  by  accident,  but  by  the  malice  of  Cupid.  Apollo 
saw  the  boy  playing  with  his  bow  and  arrows;  and 
being  himself  elated  with  his  recent  victory  over  Python, 
he  said  to  him,  “What  have  you  to  do  with  warlike 
weapons,  saucy  boy?  Leave  them  for  hands  worthy 
of  them.  Behold  the  conquest  I  have  won  by  means 
of  them  over  the  vast  serpent  who  stretched  his 
poisonous  body  over  acres  of  the  plain !  Be  content 
with  your  torch,  child,  and  kindle  up  your  flames,  as 
you  call  them,  where  you  will,  but  presume  not  to 
meddle  with  my  weapons.”  Venus’s  boy  heard  these 
words,  and  rejoined,  “Your  arrows  may  strike  all  things 
else,  Apollo,  but  mine  shall  strike  you.”  So  saying, 
he  took  his  stand  on  a  rock  of  Parnassus,  and  drew 
from  his  quiver  two  arrows  of  different  workmanship, 
one  to  excite  love,  the  other  to  repel  it.  The  former 
was  of  gold  and  sharp  pointed,  the  latter  blunt  and 
tipped  with  lead.  With  the  leaden  shaft  he  struck  the 
nymph  Daphne,  the  daughter  of  the  river  god  Peneus, 
and  with  the  golden  one  Apollo,  through  the  heart. 
Forthwith  the  god  was  seized  with  love  for  the  maiden, 
and  she  abhorred  the  thought  of  loving.  Her  delight 
was  in  woodland  sports  and  in  the  spoils  of  the  chase. 
Many  lovers  sought  her,  but  she  spurned  them  all, 
ranging  the  woods,  and  taking  no  thought  of  Cupid  nor 
of  Hymen.  Her  father  often  said  to  her,  “Daughter, 
you  owe  me  a  son-in-law;  you  owe  me  grandchildren.” 
She,  hating  the  thought  of  marriage  as  a  crime,  with 
her  beautiful  face  tinged  all  over  with  blushes,  threw 
Ler  arms  around  her  father’s  neck,  and  said,  “Dearest 

7  i 


APOLLO  AND  DAPHNE 


21 


father,  grant  me  this  favor,  that  I  may  always  remain 
unmarried,  like  Diana.”  He  consented,  but  at  the  same 
time  said,  “Your  own  face  will  forbid  it.” 

Apollo  loved  her,  and  longed  to  obtain  her;  and  he 
who  gives  oracles  to  all  the  world  was  not  wise  enough 
to  look  into  his  own  fortunes.  He  saw  her  hair 
flung  loose  over  her  shoulders,  and  said,  “If  so  charm¬ 
ing  in  disorder,  what  would  it  be  if  arranged?”  He 
saw  her  eyes  bright  as  stars ;  he  saw  her  lips,  and 
was  not  satisfied  with  only  seeing  them.  He  admired 
her  hands  and  arms,  naked  to  the  shoulder,  and  what¬ 
ever  was  hidden  from  view  he  imagined  more  beau¬ 
tiful  still.  He  followed  her;  she  fled,  swifter  than 
the  wind,  and  delayed  not  a  moment  at  his  entreaties. 
“Stay,”  said  he,  “daughter  of  Peneus;  I  am  not  a  foe. 
Do  not  fly  me  as  a  lamb  flies  the  wolf,  or  a  dove 
the  hawk.  It  is  for  love  I  pursue  you.  You  make 
me  miserable,  for  fear  you  should  fall  and  hurt  your¬ 
self  on  these  stones,  and  I  should  be  the  cause.  Pray 
run  slower,  and  I  will  follow  slower.  I  am  no  clown, 
no  rude  peasant.  Jupiter  is  my  father,  and  I  am  lord 
of  Delphos  and  Tenedos,  and  know  all  things,  present 
and  future.  I  am  the  god  of  song  and  the  lyi^e.  My 
arrows  fly  true  to  the  mark ;  but,  alas !  an  arrow  more 
fatal  than  mine  has  pierced  my  heart!  I  am  the  god 
of  medicine,  and  know  the  virtues  of  all  healing  plants. 
Alas !  I  suffer  a  malady  that  no  balm  can  cure ! 

The  nymph  continued  her  flight,  and  left  his  plea 
half  uttered.  And  even  as  she  fled  she  charmed  him. 
The  wind  blew  her  garments,  and  her  unbound  hair 
streamed  loose  behind  her.  The  god  grew  impatient 
to  find  his  wooings  thrown  away,  and,  sped  by  Cupid, 
gained  upon  her  in  the  race.  It  was  like  a  hound 
pursuing  a  hare,  with  open  jaws  ready  to  seize,  while 
the  feebler  animal  darts  forward,  slipping  from  the  very 
grasp.  So  flew  the  god  and  the  virgin — he  on  the  wings 
of  love,  and  she  on  those  of  fear.  The  pursuer  is  the 
more  rapid,  however,  and  gains  upon  her,  and  his  pant¬ 
ing  breath  blows  upon  her  hair.  Her  strength  begins 
to  fail,  and,  ready  to  sink,  she  calls  upon  her  father, 
the  river  god :  “Help  me,  Peneus !  open  the  earth  to  en- 


22 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


close  me,  or  change  my  form,  which  has  brought  me 
into  this  danger!”  Scarcely  had  she  spoken,  when  a 
stiffness  seized  all  her  limbs;  her  bosom  began  to  be 
enclosed  in  a  tender  bark;  her  hair  became  leaves;  her 
arms  became  branches ;  her  foot  stuck  fast  in  the 
ground,  as  a  root;  her  face  became  a  tree-top,  retain- 
ing  nothing  of  its  former  self  but  its  beauty.  Apollo 
stood  amazed.  He  touched  the  stem,  and  felt  the  flesh 
tremble  under  the  new  bark.  He  embraced  the  branches, 
and  lavished  kisses  on  the  wood.  The  branches  shrank 
from  his  lips.  “Since  you  cannot  be  my  wife,”  said 
he,  “you  shall  assuredly  be  my  tree.  I  will  wear  you 
for  my  crown;  I  will  decorate  with  you  my  harp  and 
my  quiver ;  and  when  the  great  Roman  conquerors 
lead  up  the  triumphal  pomp  to  the  Capitol,  you  shall 
be  woven  into  wreaths  for  their  brows.  And,  as  eternal 
youth  is  mine,  you  also  shall  be  always  green,  and  your 
leaf  know  no  decay.”  The  nymph,  now  changed  into  a 
Laurel  tree,  bowed  its  head  in  grateful  acknowledg¬ 
ment. 

That  Apollo  should  be  the  god  both  of  music  and 
poetry  will  not  appear  strange,  but  that  medicine  should 
also  be  assigned  to  his  province,  may.  The  poet  Arm¬ 
strong,  himself  a  physician,  thus  accounts  for  it: 

“Music  exalts  each  joy,  allays  each  grief, 

Expels  diseases,  softens  every  pain; 

And  hence  the  wise  of  ancient  days  adored 
One  power  of  physic,  melody,  and  song.” 

The  story  of  Apollo  and  Daphne  is  often  alluded  to 
by  the  poets.  Waller  applies  it  to  the  case  of  one 
whose  amatory  verses,  though  they  did  not  soften  the 
heart  of  his  mistress,  yet  won  for  the  poet  wide-spread 
.fame : 

“Yet  what  he  sung  in  his  immortal  strain, 

Though  unsuccessful,  was  not  sung  in  vain. 

All  but  the  nymph  that  should  redress  his  wrong, 
Attend  his  passion  and  approve  his  song. 

Like  Phoebus  thus,  acquiring  unsought  praise, 

He  caught  at  love  and  filled  his  arms  with  bays.” 


PYRAMUS  AND  THISBE 


23 


The  following  stanza  from  Shelley’s  “Adonais”  al¬ 
ludes  to  Byron’s  early  quarrel  with  the  reviewers: 

“The  herded  wolves,  bold  only  to  pursue; 

The  obscene  ravens,  clamorous  o’er  the  dead; 

The  vultures,  to  the  conqueror’s  banner  true, 

Who  feed  where  Desolation  first  has  fed, 

And  whose  wings  rain  contagion  :  how  they  fled, 

When  like  Apollo,  from  his  golden  bow, 

The  Pythian  of  the  age  one  arrow  sped 

And  smiled !  The  spoilers  tempt  no  second  blow ; 

They  fawn  on  the  proud  feet  that  spurn  them  as  they  .go.” 

PYRAMUS  AND  THISBE 

Pyramus  was  the  handsomest  youth,  and  Thisbe  the 
fairest  maiden,  in  all  Babylonia,  where  Semiramis 
reigned.  Their  parents  occupied  adjoining  houses;  and 
neighborhood  brought  the  young  people  together,  and 
acquaintance  ripened  into  love.  They  would  gladly 
have  married,  but  their  parents  forbade.  One  thing, 
however,  they  could  not  forbid — that  love  should  glow 
with  equal  ardor  in  the  bosoms  of  both.  They  con¬ 
versed  by  signs  and  glances,  and  the  fire  burned  more 
intensely  for  being  covered  up.  In  the  wall  that  parted 
the  two  houses  there  was  a  crack,  caused  by  some  fault 
in  the  structure.  No  one  had  remarked  it  before,  but 
the  lovers  discovered  it.  What  will  not  love  discover! 
It  afforded  a  passage  to  the  voice;  and  tender  mes¬ 
sages  used  to  pass  backward  and  forward  through  the 
gap.  As  they  stood,  Pyramus  on  this  side,  Thisbe  on 
that,  their  breaths  would  mingle.  “Cruel  wall,”  they 
said,  “why  do  you  keep  two  lovers  apart?  But  we1 
will  not  be  ungrateful.  We  owe  you,  we  confess,  the 
privilege  of  transmitting  loving  words  to  willing  ears.” 
Such  words  they  uttered  on  different  sides  of  the  wall ; 
and  when  night  came  and  they  must  say  farewell,  they 
pressed  their  lips  upon  the  wall,  she  on  her  side,  he 
on  his,  as  they  could  come  no  nearer. 

Next  morning,  when  Aurora  had  put  out  the  stars, 
and  the  sun  had  melted  the  frost  from  the  grass,  they 
met  at  the  accustomed  spot.  Then,  after  lamenting 
their  hard  fate,  they  agreed  that  next  night,  when  all 


24  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

was  still,  they  would  slip  away  from  watchful  eyes, 
leave  their  dwellings  and  walk  out  into  the  fields;  and 
to  insure  a  meeting,  repair  to  a  well-known  edifice 
standing  without  the  city’s  bounds,  called  the  Tomb  of 
Ninus,  and  that  the  one  who  Same  first  should  await 
the  other  at  the  foot  of  a  certain  tree.  It  was  a  white 
mulberry  tree,  and  stood  near  a  cool  spring.  All  was 
agreed  on,  and  they  waited  impatiently  for  the  sun  to 
go  down  beneath  the  waters  and  night  to  rise  up  from 
them.  Then  cautiously  Thisbe  stole  forth,  unobserved 
by  the  family,  her  head  covered  with  a  veil,  made  her 
way  to  the  monument  and  sat  down  under  the  tree. 
As  she  sat  alone  in  the  dim  light  of  the  evening  she 
descried  a  lioness,  her  jaws  reeking  with  recent  slaugh¬ 
ter,  approaching  the  fountain  to  slake  her  thirst.  Thisbe 
fled  at  the  sight,  and  sought  refuge  in  the  hollow  of 
a  rock.  As  she  fled  she  dropped  her  veil.  The  lioness 
after  drinking  at  the  spring  turned  to  retreat  to  the 
woods,  and  seeing  the  veil  on  the  ground,  tossed  and 
rent  it  with  her  bloody  mouth. 

Pyramus,  having  been  delayed,  now  approached  the 
place  of  meeting.  He  saw  in  the  sand  the  footsteps 
of  the  lion,  and  the  color  fled  from  his  cheeks  at  the 
sight.  Presently  he  found  the  veil  all  rent  and  bloody. 
“O  hapless  girl,”  said  he,  “I  have  been  the  cause  of 
thy  death !  Thou,  more  worthy  of  life  than  I,  hast 
fallen  the  first  victim.  I  will  follow.  I  am  the  guilty 
cause,  in  tempting  thee  forth  to  a  place  of  such  peril, 
and  not  being  myself  on  the  spot  to  guard  thee.  Come 
forth,  ye  lions,  from  the  rocks,  and  tear  this  guilty  body 
with  your  teeth.”  He  took  up  the  veil,  carried  it  with 
him  to  the  appointed  tree,  and  covered  it  with  kisses 
and  with  tears.  “My  blood  also  shall  stain  your  tex¬ 
ture,”  said  he,  and  drawing  his  sword  plunged  it  into 
his  heart.  The  blood  spurted  from  the  wound,  and 
tinged  the  white  mulberries  of  the  tree  all  red;  and 
sinking  into  the  earth  reached  the  roots,  so  that  the 
red  color  mounted  through  the  trunk  to  the  fruit. 

By  this  time  Thisbe,  still  trembling  with  fear,  yet 
wishing  not  to  disappoint  her  lover,  stepped  cautiously 
forth,  looking  anxiously  for  the  youth,  eager  to  tell  him 


PYRAMUS  AND  THISBE 


25 


the  danger  she  had  escaped.  When  she  came  to  the 
spot  and  saw  the  changed  color  of  the  mulberries  she 
doubted  whether  it  was  the  same  place.  While  she 
hesitated  she  saw  the  form  of  one  struggling  in  the 
agonies  of  death.  She  started  back,  a  shudder  ran 
through  her  frame  as  a  ripple  on  the  face  of  the  still 
water  when  a  sudden  breeze  sweeps  over  it.  But  as 
soon  as  she  recognized  her  lover,  she  screamed  and 
beat  her  breast,  embracing  the  lifeless  body,  pouring 
tears  into  its  wounds,  and  imprinting  kisses  on  the  cold 
lips.  “O  Pyramus,”  she  cried,  “what  has  done  this? 
Answer  me,  Pyramus ;  it  is  your  own  Thisbe  that  speaks. 
Hear  me,  dearest,  and  lift  that  drooping  head!”  At 
the  name  of  Thisbe  Pyramus  opened  his  eyes,  then 
closed  them  again.  She  saw  her  veil  stained  with  blood 
and  the  scabbard  empty  of  its  sword.  “Thy  own  hand 
has  slain  thee,  and  for  my  sake,”  she  said.  “I  too  can 
be  brave  for  once,  and  my  love  is  as  strong  as  thine. 
I  will  follow  thee  in  death,  for  I  have  been  the  cause; 
and  death  which  alone  could  part  us  shall  not  prevent 
my  joining  thee.  And  ye,  unhappy  parents  of  us  both, 
deny  us  not  our  united  request.  As  love  and  death  have 
joined  us,  let  one  tomb  contain  us.  And  thou,  tree, 
retain  the  marks  of  slaughter.  Let  thy  berries  still  serve 
for  memorials  of  our  blood.”  So  saying  she  plunged 
the  sword  into  her  breast.  Her  parents  ratified  her 
wish,  the  gods  also  ratified  it.  The  two  bodies  were 
buried  in  one  sepulchre,  and  the  tree  ever  after  brought 
forth  purple  berries,  as  it  does  to  this  day. 

Moore,  in  the  “Sylph’s  Ball,”  speaking  of  Davy’s 
Safety  Lamp,  is  reminded  of  the  wall  that  separated 
Thisbe  and  her  lover: 

“O  for  that  Lamp’s  metallic  gauze, 

That  curtain  of  protecting  wire, 

Which  Davy  delicately  draws 
Around  illicit,  dangerous  fire! 

The  wall  he  sets  ’twixt  Flame  and  Air, 

(Like  that  which  barred  young  Thisbe’s  bliss,) 
Through  whose  small  holes  this  dangerous  pair 
May  see  each  other,  but  not  kiss.” 


26 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


In  Mickle’s  translation  of  the  “Lusiad”  occurs  the 
following  allusion  to  the  story  of  Pyramus  and  Thisbe, 
and  the  metamorphosis  of  the  mulberries.  The  poet  is 
describing  the  Island  of  Love : 

.  .  here  each  gift  Pomona’s  hand  bestows 
In  cultured  garden,  free  uncultured  flows, 

The  flavor  sweeter  and  the  hue  more  fair 
Than  e’er  was  fostered  by  the  hand  of  care. 

The  cherry  here  in  shining  crimson  glows, 

And  stained  with  lovers’  blood,  in  pendent  rows, 

The  mulberries  o’erload  the  bending  boughs.” 

If  any  of  our  young  readers  can  be  so  hard-hearted 
as  to  enjoy  a  laugh  at  the  expense  of  poor  Pyramus 
and  Thisbe,  they  may  find  an  opportunity  by  turning 
to  Shakspeare’s  play  of  the  “Midsummer  Night’s 
Dream,”  where  it  is  most  amusingly  burlesqued. 

CEPHALUS  AND  PROCRIS 

Cephalus  was  a  beautiful  youth  and  fond  of  manly 
sports.  He  would  rise  before  the  dawn  to  pursue  the 
chase.  Aurora  saw  him  when  she  first  looked  forth, 
fell  in  love  with  him,  and  stole  him  away.  But  Cephalus 
was  just  married  to  a  charming  wife  whom  he  devotedly 
loved.  Her  name  was  Procris.  She  was  a  favorite 
of  Diana,  the  goddess  of  hunting,  who  had  given  her 
a  dog  which  could  outrun  every  rival,  and  a  javelin 
which  would  never  fail  of  its  mark;  and  Procris  gave 
these  presents  to  her  husband.  Cephalus  was  so  happy 
in  his  wife  that  he  resisted  all  the  entreaties  of  Aurora, 
and  she  finally  dismissed  him  in  displeasure,  saying, 
“Go,  ungrateful  mortal,  keep  your  wife,  whom,  if  I  am 
not  much  mistaken,  you  will  one  day  be  very  sorry  you 
ever  saw  again.” 

Cephalus  returned,  and  was  as  happy  as  ever  in  his 
wife  and  his  woodland  sports.  Now  it  happened  some 
angry  deity  had  sent  a  ravenous  fox  to  annoy  the  coun¬ 
try;  and  the  hunters  turned  out  in  great  strength  to 
capture  it.  Their  efforts  were  all  in  vain ;  no  dog  could 
run  it  down;  and  at  last  they  came  to  Cephalus  to  bor¬ 
row  his  famous  dog,  whose  name  was  Lelaps.  No 


CEPHALUS  AND  PROCRIS 


27 


sooner  was  the  dog  let  loose  than  he  darted  off,  quicker 
than  their  eye  could  follow  him.  If  they  had  not  seen 
his  footprints  in  the  sand  they  would  have  thought  he 
flew.  Cephalus  and  others  stood  on  a  hill  and  saw  the 
race.  The  fox  tried  every  art;  he  ran  in  a  circle  and 
turned  on  his  track,  the  dog  close  upon  him,  with  open 
jaws,  snapping  at  his  heels,  but  biting  only  the  air. 
Cephalus  was  about  to  use  his  javelin,  when  suddenly  he 
saw  both  dog  and  game  stop  instantly.  The  heavenly 
powers  who  had  given  both  were  not  willing  that  either 
should  conquer.  In  the  very  attitude  of  life  and  action 
they  were  turned  into  stone.  So  lifelike  and  natural  did 
they  look,  you  would  have  thought,  as  you  looked  at 
them,  that  one  was  going  to  bark,  the  other  to  leap  for¬ 
ward. 

Cephalus,  though  he  had  lost  his  dog,  still  contin¬ 
ued  to  take  delight  in  the  chase.  He  would  go  out  at 
early  morning,  ranging  the  woods  and  hills  unaccom¬ 
panied  by  any  one,  needing  no  help,  for  his  javelin  was  a 
sure  weapon  in  all  cases.  Fatigued  with  hunting,  when 
the  sun  got  high  he  would  seek  a  shady  nook  where  a 
cool  stream  flowed,  and,  stretched  on  the  grass,  with  his 
garments  thrown  aside,  would  enjoy  the  breeze.  Some¬ 
times  he  would  say  aloud,  “Come,  sweet  breeze,  come 
and  fan  my  breast,  come  and  allay  the  heat  that  burns 
me.”  Some  one  passing  by  one  day  heard  him  talking  in 
this  way  to  the  air,  and,  foolishly  believing  that  he  was 
talking  to  some  maiden,  went  and  told  the  secret  to 
Procris,  Cephalus’s  wife.  Love  is  credulous.  Procris, 
at  the  sudden  shock,  fainted  away.  Presently  re¬ 
covering,  she  said,  “It  cannot  be  true ;  I  will  not  be¬ 
lieve  it  unless  I  myself  am  a  witness  to  it.”  So  she 
waited,  with  anxious  heart,  till  the  next  morning,  when 
Cephalus  went  to  hunt  as  usual.  Then  she  stole  out 
after  him,  and  concealed  herself  in  the  place  where  the 
informer  directed  her.  Cephalus  came  as  he  was  wont 
when  tired  with  sport,  and  stretched  himself  on  the 
green  bank,  saying,  “Come,  sweet  breeze,  come  and 
fan  me ;  you  know  how  I  love  you !  you  make  the  groves 
and  my  solitary  rambles  delightful.”  He  was  running 
on  in  this  way  when  he  heard,  or  thought  he  heard,  a 


28 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


sound  as  of  a  sob  in  the  bushes.  Supposing  it  some 
wild  animal,  he  threw  his  javelin  at  the  spot.  A  cry 
from  his  beloved  Procris  told  him  that  the  weapon  had 
too  surely  met  its  mark.  Pie  rushed  to  the  place,  and 
found  her  bleeding,  and  with  sinking  strength  endeav¬ 
oring  to  draw  forth  from  the  wound  the  javelin,  her 
own  gift.  Cephalus  raised  her  from  the  earth,  strove 
to  stanch  the  blood,  and  called  her  to  revive  and  not  to 
leave  him  miserable,  to  reproach  himself  with  her  death. 
She  opened  her  feeble  eyes,  and  forced  herself  to  utter 
these  few  words :  “I  implore  you,  if  you  have  ever  loved 
me,  if  I  have  ever  deserved  kindness  at  your  hands,  my 
husband,  grant  me  this  last  request;  do  not  marry  that 
odious  Breeze !”  This  disclosed  the  whole  mystery :  but 
alas !  what  advantage  to  disclose  it  now !  She  died ;  but 
her  face  wore  a  calm  expression,  and  she  looked  pity¬ 
ingly  and  forgivingly  on  her  husband  when  he  made  her 
understand  the  truth. 

Moore,  in  his  “Legendary  Ballads, ”  has  one  oa 
Cephalus  and  Procris,  beginning  thus : 

“A  hunter  once  in  a  grove  reclined, 

To  shun  the  noon’s  bright  eye, 

And  oft  he  wooed  the  wandering  wind 
To  cool  his  brow  with  its  sigh. 

While  mute  lay  even  the  wild  bee’s  hum, 

Nor  breath  could  stir  the  aspen’s  hair, 

His  song  was  still,  ‘Sweet  Air,  O  come!’ 

While  Echo  answered,  ‘Come,  sweet  Air!’” 


CHAPTER  IV 

JUNO  AND  HER  RIVALS,  10  AND  CALLISTO - DIANA  AND 

ACTION — LATONA  AND  THE  RUSTICS 

Juno  one  day  perceived  it  suddenly  grow  dark,  and 
immediately  suspected  that  her  husband  had  raised  a 
cloud  to  hide  some  of  his  doings  that  would  not  bear 
the  light.  She  brushed  away  the  cloud,  and  saw  her 
husband  on  the  banks  of  a  glassy  river,  with  a  beautiful 


JUNO  AND  HER  RIVALS 


29 


heifer  standing  near  him.  Juno  suspected  the  heifer’s 
form  concealed  some  fair  nymph  of  mortal  mould — as 
was,  indeed  the  case;  for  it  was  Io,  the  daughter  of 
the  river  god  Inachus,  whom  Jupiter  had  been  flirting 
with,  and,  when  he  became  aware  of  the  approach  of  his 
wife,  had  changed  into  that  form. 

Juno  joined  her  husband,  and  noticing  the  heifer 
praised  its  beauty,  and  asked  whose  it  was,  and  of  what 
herd.  Jupiter,  to  stop  questions,  replied  that  it  was  a 
fresh  creation  from  the  earth.  Juno  asked  to  have  it  as 
a  gift.  What  could  Jupiter  do?  He  was  loath  to  give 
his  mistress  to  his  wife;  yet  how  refuse  so  trifling 
a  present  as  a  simple  heifer?  He  could  not,  without 
exciting  suspicion;  so  he  consented.  The  goddess  was 
not  yet  relieved  of  her  suspicions;  so  she  delivered  the 
heifer  to  Argus,  to  be  strictly  watched. 

Now  Argus  had  a  hundred  eyes  in  his  head,  and  never 
went  to  sleep  with  more  than  two  at  a  time*  so  that  he 
kept  watch  of  Io  constantly.  He  suffered  her  to  feed 
through  the  day,  and  at  night  tied  her  up  with  a  vile 
rope  round  her  neck.  She  would  have  stretched  out  her 
arms  to  implore  freedom  of  Argus,  but  she  had  no  arms 
to  stretch  out,  and  her  voice  was  a  bellow  that  fright¬ 
ened  even  herself.  She  saw  her  father  and  her  sisters, 
went  near  them,  and  suffered  them  to  pat  her  back,  and 
heard  them  admire  her  beauty.  Her  father  reached  her 
a  tuft  of  grass,  and  she  licked  the  outstretched  hand. 
She  longed  to  make  herself  known  to  him,  and  would 
have  uttered  her  wish ;  but,  alas !  words  were  wanting. 
At  length  she  bethought  herself  of  writing,  and  inscribed 
her  name — it  was  a  short  one — with  her  hoof  on  the 
sand.  Inachus  recognized  it,  and  discovering  that  his 
daughter,  whom  he  had  long  sought  in  vain,  was  hidden 
under  this  disguise,  mourned  over  her,  and,  embracing 
her  white  neck,  exclaimed,  “Alas !  my  daughter,  it  would 
have  been  a  less  grief  to  have  lost  you  altogether!” 
While  he  thus  lamented,  Argus,  observing,  came  and 
drove  her  away,  and  took  his  seat  on  a  high  bank,  from 
whence  he  could  see  all  around  in  every  direction. 

Jupiter  was  troubled  at  beholding  the  sufferings  of  his 
mistress,  and  calling  Mercury  told  him  to  go  and  despatch 


30 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


Argus.  Mercury  made  haste,  put  his  winged  slippers  on 
his  feet,  and  cap  on  his  head,  took  his  sleep-producing 
wand,  and  leaped  down  from  the  heavenly  towers  to  the 
earth.  There  he  laid  aside  his  wings,  and  kept  only  his 
wand,  with  which  he  presented  himself  as  a  shepherd 
driving  his  flock.  As  he  strolled  on  he  blew  upon  his 
pipes.  These  were  what  are  called  the  Syrinx  or  Pandean 
pipes.  Argus  listened  with  delight,  for  he  had  never  seen 
the  instrument  before.  “Young  man,”  said  he,  “come 
and  take  a  seat  by  me  on  this  stone.  There  is  no  better 
place  for  your  flocks  to  graze  in  than  hereabouts,  and 
here  is  a  pleasant  shade  such  as  shepherds  love.”  Mercury 
sat  down,  talked,  and  told  stories  till  it  grew  late,  and 
played  upon  his  pipes  his  most  soothing  strains,  hoping 
to  lull  the  watchful  eyes  to  sleep,  but  all  in  vain;  for 
Argus  still  contrived  to  keep  some  of  his  eyes  open 
though  he  shut  the  rest. 

Among  other  stories,  Mercury  told  him  how  the  instru¬ 
ment  on  which  he  played  was  invented.  “There  was  a 
certain  nymph,  whose  name  was  Syrinx,  who  was  much 
beloved  by  the  satyrs  and  spirits  of  the  wood;  but  she 
would  have  none  of  them,  but  was  a  faithful  worshipper 
of  Diana,  and  followed  the  chase.  You  would  have 
thought  it  was  Diana  herself,  had  you  seen  her  in  her 
hunting  dress,  only  that  her  bow  was  of  horn  and  Diana’s 
of  silver.  One  day,  as  she  was  returning  from  the  chase. 
Pan  met  her,  told  her  just  this,  and  added  more  of  the 
same  sort.  She  ran  away,  without  stopping  to  hear  his 
compliments,  and  he  pursued  till  she  came  to  the  bank  of 
the  river,  where  he  overtook  her,  and  she  had  only  time  to 
call  for  help  on  her  friends  the  water  nymphs.  They 
heard  and  consented.  Pan  threw  his  arms  around  what 
he  supposed  to  be  the  form  of  the  nymph,  and  found  he 
embraced  only  a  tuft  of  reeds !  As  he  breathed  a  sigh, 
the  air  sounded  through  the  reeds,  and  produced  a  plain¬ 
tive  melody.  The  god,  charmed  with  the  novelty  and  with 
the  sweetness  of  the  music,  said,  ‘Thus,  then,  at  least, 
you  shall  be  mine/  And  he  took  some  of  the  reeds,  and 
placing  them  together,  of  unequal  lengths,  side  by  side, 
made  an  instrument  which  he  called  Syrinx,  in  honor  of 
the  nymph.”  Before  Mercury  had  finished  his  story  he 


CALLISTO 


31 


saw  Argus’s  eyes  all  asleep.  As  his  head  nodded  forward 
on  his  breast,  Mercury  with  one  stroke  cut  his  neck 
through,  and  tumbled  his  head  down  the  rocks.  O  hap¬ 
less  Argus !  the  light  of  your  hundred  eyes  is  quenched 
at  once !  Juno  took  them  and  put  them  as  ornaments 
on  the  tail  of  her  peacock,  where  they  remain  to  this  day. 

But  the  vengeance  of  Juno  was  not  yet  satiated.  She 
sent  a  gadfly  to  torment  Io,  who  fled  over  the  whole 
world  from  its  pursuit.  She  swam  through  the  Ionian 
sea,  which  derived  its  name  from  her,  then  roamed  over 
the  plains  of  Illyria,  ascended  Mount  Haemus,  and  crossed 
the  Thracian  strait,  thence  named  the  Bosphorus  (cow- 
ford),  rambled  on  through  Scythia,  and  the  country  of 
the  Cimmerians,  and  arrived  at  last  on  the  banks  of  the 
Nile.  At  length  Jupiter  interceded  for  her,  and  upon 
his  promising  not  to  pay  her  any  more  attentions  Juno 
consented  to  restore  her  to  her  form.  It  was  curious  to 
see  her  gradually  recover  her  former  self.  The  coarse 
hairs  fell  from  her  body,  her  horns  shrank  up,  her  eyes 
grew  narrower,  her  mouth  shorter;  hands  and  fingers 
came  instead  of  hoofs  to  her  forefeet;  in  fine  there  was 
nothing  left  of  the  heifer,  except  her  beauty.  At  first  she 
was  afraid  to  speak,  for  fear  she  should  low,  but  grad¬ 
ually  she  recovered  her  confidence  and  was  restored  to 
her  father  and  sisters. 

In  a  poem  dedicated  to  Leigh  Hunt,  by  Keats,  the  fol¬ 
lowing  allusion  to  the  story  of  Pan  and  Syrinx  occurs : 

“So  did  he  feel  who  pulled  the  bough  aside, 

That  we  might  look  into  a  forest  wide, 

•  •••••• 

Telling  us  how  fair  trembling  Syrinx  fled 
Arcadian  Pan,  with  such  a  fearful  dread. 

Poor  nymph — poor  Pan — how  he  did  weep  to  find 
Nought  but  a  lovely  sighing  of  the  wind 
Along  the  reedy  stream;  a  half-heard  strain. 

Full  of  sweet  desolation,  balmy  pain/' 

CALLISTO 

Callisto  was  another  maiden  who  excited  the  jealousy 
of  Juno,  and  the  goddess  changed  her  into  a  bear.  “I 


32 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


will  take  away,”  said  she,  “that  beauty  with  which  you 
have  captivated  my  husband.”  Down  fell  Callisto  on  her 
hands  and  knees ;  she  tried  to  stretch  out  her  arms  in 
supplication — they  were  already  beginning  to  be  covered 
with  black  hair.  Her  hands  grew  rounded,  became  armed 
with  crooked  claws,  and  served  for  feet;  her  mouth, 
which  Jove  used  to  praise  for  its  beauty,  became  a  horrid 
pair  of  jaws ;  her  voice,  which  if  unchanged  would  have 
moved  the  heart  to  pity,  became  a  growl,  more  fit  to 
inspire  terror.  Yet  her  former  disposition  remained, 
and  with  continual  groaning,  she  bemoaned  her  fate,  and 
stood  upright  as  well  as  she  could,  lifting  up  her  paws 
to  beg  for  mercy,  and  felt  that  Jove  was  unkind,  though 
she  could  not  tell  him  so.  Ah,  how  often,  afraid  to  stay 
in  the  woods  all  night  alone,  she  wandered  about  the 
neighborhood  of  her  former  haunts ;  how  often,  fright¬ 
ened  by  the  dogs,  did  she,  so  lately  a  huntress,  fly  in 
terror  from  the  hunters !  Often  she  fled  from  the  wild 
beasts,  forgetting  that  she  was  now  a  wild  beast  herself ; 
and,  bear  as  she  was,  was  afraid  of  the  bears. 

One  day  a  youth  espied  her  as  he  was  hunting.  She 
saw  him  and  recognized  him  as  her  own  son,  now  grown 
a  young  man.  She  stopped  and  felt  inclined  to  embrace 
him.  As  she  was  about  to  approach,  he,  alarmed,  raised 
his  hunting  spear,  and  was  on  the  point  of  transfixing 
her,  when  Jupiter,  beholding,  arrested  the  crime,  and 
snatching  away  both  of  them,  placed  them  in  the  heavens 
as  the  Great  and  Little  Bear. 

Juno  was  in  a  rage  to  see  her  rival  so  set  in  honor,  and 
hastened  to  ancient  Tethys  and  Oceanus,  the  powers  of 
ocean,  and  in  answer  to  their  inquiries  thus  told  the  cause 
of  her  coming:  “Do  you  ask  why  I,  the  queen  of  the 
gods,  have  left  the  heavenly  plains  and  sought  your 
depths?  Learn  that  I  am  supplanted  in  heaven — my 
place  is  given  to  another.  You  will  hardly  believe  me ; 
but  look  when  night  darkens  the  world,  and  you  shall  see 
the  two  of  whom  I  have  so  much  reason  to  complain 
exalted  to  the  heavens,  in  that  part  where  the  circle  is  the 
smallest,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  pole.  Why  should 
any  one  hereafter  tremble  at  the  thought  of  offending 
Juno,  when  such  rewards  are  the  consequence  of  my  dis- 


HERMES. 

Museum  at  Olympus.  Discovered  May  8,  t S77 


CALLISTO 


33 


pleasure  ?  See  what  I  have  been  able  to  effect !  I  forbade 
her  to  wear  the  human  form — she  is  placed  among  the 
stars !  So  do  my  punishments  result — such  is  the  extent 
of  my  power !  Better  that  she  should  have  resumed  her 
former  shape,  as  I  permitted  Io  to  do.  Perhaps  he  means 
to  marry  her,  and  put  me  away !  But  you,  my  foster- 
parents,  if  you  feel  for  me,  and  see  with  displeasure  this 
unworthy  treatment  of  me,  show  it,  I  beseech  you,  by 
forbidding  this  guilty  couple  from  coming  into  your 
waters.”  The  powers  of  the  ocean  assented,  and  conse¬ 
quently  the  two  constellations  of  the  Great  and  Little 
Bear  move  round  and  round  in  heaven,  but  never  sink, 
as  the  other  stars  do,  beneath  the  ocean. 

Milton  alludes  to  the  fact  that  the  constellation  of  the 
Bear  never  sets,  when  he  says : 

“Let  my  lamp  at  midnight  hour 
Be  seen  in  some  high  lonely  tower, 

Where  I  may  oft  outwatch  the  Bear,”  etc. 

And  Prometheus,  in  J.  R.  Lowell’s  poem,  says : 

“One  after  one  the  stars  have  risen  and  set, 

Sparkling  upon  the  hoar  frost  of  my  chain; 

The  Bear  that  prowled  all  night  about  the  fold 
Of  the  North-star,  hath  shrunk  into  his  den, 

Scared  by  the  blithesome  footsteps  of  the  Dawn.” 

The  last  star  in  the  tail  of  the  Little  Bear  is  the  Pole- 
star,  called  also  the  Cynosure.  Milton  says : 

“Straight  mine  eye  hath  caught  new  pleasures 
While  the  landscape  round  it  measures. 

•  ••»••• 

Towers  and  battlements  it  sees 
Bosomed  high  in  tufted  trees, 

Where  perhaps  some  beauty  lies 
The  Cynosure  of  neighboring  eyes.” 

The  reference  here  is  both  to  the  Pole-star  as  the  guide 
of  mariners,  and  to  the  magnetic  attraction  of  the  North. 
He  calls  it  also  the  “Star  of  Arcady,”  because  Callisto’s 


34 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


boy  was  named  Areas,  and  they  lived  in  Arcadia.  In 
“Comus,”  the  brother,  benighted  in  the  woods,  says : 

.  .  Some  gentle  taper ! 

Though  a  rush  candle,  from  the  wicker  hole 

Of  some  clay  habitation,  visit  us 

With  thy  long  levelled  rule  of  streaming  light, 

And  thou  shalt  be  our  star  of  Arcady, 

Or  Tyrian  Cynosure.” 


DIANA  AND  ACTION 

Thus  in  two  instances  we  have  seen  Juno’s  severity 
to  her  rivals ;  now  let  us  learn  how  a  virgin  goddess  pun¬ 
ished  an  invader  of  her  privacy. 

It  was  midday,  and  the  sun  stood  equally  distant  from 
either  goal,  when  young  Actseon,  son  of  King  Cadmus, 
thus  addressed  the  youths  who  with  him  were  hunting 
the  stag  in  the  mountains : 

“Friends,  our  nets  and  our  weapons  are  wet  with  the 
blood  of  our  victims ;  we  have  had  sport  enough  for  one 
day,  and  to-morrow  we  can  renew  our  labors.  Now, 
while  Phoebus  parches  the  earth,  let  us  put  by  our  imple¬ 
ments  and  indulge  ourselves  with  rest.” 

There  was  a  valley  thick  enclosed  with  cypresses  and 
pines,  sacred  to  the  huntress  queen,  Diana.  In  the  ex¬ 
tremity  of  the  valley  was  a  cave,  not  adorned  with  art, 
but  nature  had  counterfeited  art  in  its  construction,  for 
she  had  turned  the  arch  of  its  roof  with  stones  as  deli¬ 
cately  fitted  as  if  by  the  hand  of  man.  A  fountain  burst 
out  from  one  side,  whose  open  basin  was  bounded  by  a 
grassy  rim.  Here  the  goddess  of  the  woods  used  to  come 
when  weary  with  hunting  and  lave  her  virgin  limbs  in 
the  sparkling  water. 

One  day,  having  repaired  thither  with  her  nymphs,  she 
handed  her  javelin,  her  quiver,  and  her  bow  to  one,  her 
robe  to  another,  while  a  third  unbound  the  sandals  from 
her  feet.  Then  Crocale,  the  most  skilful  of  them,  ar¬ 
ranged  her  hair,  and  Nephele,  Hyale,  and  the  rest  drew 
water  in  capacious  urns.  While  the  goddess  was  thus 
employed  in  the  labors  of  the  toilet,  behold  Actseon,  hav¬ 
ing  quitted  his  companions,  and  rambling  without  any 


DIANA  AND  ACTION 


35 


especial  object,  came  to  the  place,  led  thither  by  his 
destiny.  As  he  presented  himself  at  the  entrance  of  the 
cave,  the  nymphs,  seeing  a  man,  screamed  and  rushed 
towards  the  goddess  to  hide  her  with  their  bodies.  But 
she  was  taller  than  the  rest  and  overtopped  them  all  by 
a  head.  Such  a  color  as  tinges  the  clouds  at  sunset  or 
at  dawn  came  over  the  countenance  of  Diana  thus  taken 
by  surprise.  Surrounded  as  she  was  by  her  nymphs,  she 
yet  turned  half  away,  and  sought  with  a  sudden  impulse 
for  her  arrows.  As  they  were  not  at  hand,  she  dashed 
the  water  into  the  face  of  the  intruder,  adding  these 
words:  “Now  go  and  tell,  if  you  can,  that  you  have 
seen  Diana  unapparelled.”  Immediately  a  pair  of  branch¬ 
ing  stag’s  horns  grew  out  of  his  head,  his  neck  gained  in 
length,  his  ears  grew  sharp-pointed,  his  hands  became 
feet,  his  arms  long  legs,  his  body  was  covered  with  a 
hairy  spotted  hide.  Fear  took  the  place  of  his  former 
boldness,  and  the  hero  fled.  He  could  not  but  admire  his 
own  speed ;  but  when  he  saw  his  horns  in  the  water,  “Ah, 
wretched  me  !”  he  would  have  said,  but  no  sound  followed 
the  effort.  He  groaned,  and  tears  flowed  down  the  face 
which  had  taken  the  place  of  his  own.  Yet  his  conscious¬ 
ness  remained.  What  shall  he  do  ? — go  home  to  seek  the 
palace,  or  lie  hid  in  the  woods  ?  The  latter  he  was  afraid, 
the  former  he  was  ashamed,  to  do.  While  he  hesitated 
the  dogs  saw  him.  First  Melampus,  a  Spartan  dog,  gave 
the  signal  with  his  bark,  then  Pamphagus,  Dorceus,  Le- 
laps,  Theron,  Nape,  Tigris,  and  all  the  rest,  rushed  after 
him  swifter  than  the  wind.  Over  rocks  and  cliffs,  through 
mountain  gorges  that  seemed  impracticable,  he  fled  and 
they  followed.  Where  he  had  often  chased  the  stag  and 
cheered  on  his  pack,  his  pack  now  chased  him,  cheered 
on  by  his  huntsmen.  He  longed  to  cry  out,  “I  am  Ac- 
taeon ;  recognize  your  master !”  but  the  words  came  not 
at  his  will.  The  air  resounded  with  the  bark  of  the  dogs. 
Presently  one  fastened  on  his  back,  another  seized  his 
shoulder.  While  they  held  their  master,  the  rest  of  the 
pack  came  up  and  buried  their  teeth  in  his  flesh.  He 
groaned, — not  in  a  human  voice,  yet  certainly  not  in  a 
stag’s, — and  falling  on  his  knees,  raised  his  eyes,  and 
would  have  raised  his  arms  in  supplication,  if  he  had  had 


36 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


them.  His  friends  and  fellow-huntsmen  cheered  on  the 
dogs,  and  looked  everywhere  for  Actseon,  calling  on  him 
to  join  the  sport.  At  the  sound  of  his  name  he  turned 
his  head,  and  heard  them  regret  that  he  should  be  away. 
He  earnestly  wished  he  was.  He  would  have  been  well 
pleased  to  see  the  exploits  of  his  dogs,  but  to  feel  them 
was  too  much.  They  were  all  around  him,  rending  and 
tearing ;  and  it  was  not  till  they  had  torn  his  life  out  that 
the  anger  of  Diana  was  satisfied. 

In  Shelley’s  poem  “Adonais”  is  the  following  allusion 
to  the  story  of  Actaeon: 

"’Midst  others  of  less  note  came  one  frail  form, 

A  phantom  among  men :  companionless 
As  the  last  cloud  of  an  expiring  storm, 

Whose  thunder  is  its  knell;  he,  as  I  guess, 

Had  gazed  on  Nature’s  naked  loveliness, 

Actaeon-like,  and  now  he  fled  astray 

With  feeble  steps  o’er  the  world’s  wilderness; 

And  his  own  Thoughts,  along  that  rugged  way, 

Pursued  like  raging  hounds  their  father  and  their  prey.” 

Stanza  31. 

The  allusion  is  probably  to  Shelley  himsejf. 


LATONA  AND  THE  RUSTICS 

Some  thought  the  goddess  in  this  instance  more  severe 
than  was  just,  while  others  praised  her  conduct  as  strictly 
consistent  with  her  virgin  dignity.  As  usual,  the  recent 
event  brought  older  ones  to  mind,  and  one  of  the  by¬ 
standers  told  this  story:  “Some  countrymen  of  Lycia 
once  insulted  the  goddess  Latona,  but  not  with  impunity. 
When  I  was  young,  my  father,  who  had  grown  too  old 
for  active  labors,  sent  me  to  Lycia  to  drive  thence  some 
choice  oxen,  and  there  I  saw  the  very  pond  and  marsh 
where  the  wonder  happened.  Near  by  stood  an  ancient 
altar,  black  with  the  smoke  of  sacrifice  and  almost  buried 
among  the  reeds.  I  inquired  whose  altar  it  might  be, 
whether  of  Faunus  or  the  Naiads,  or  some  god  of  the 
neighboring  mountain,  and  one  of  the  country  people 
replied,  ‘No  mountain  or  river  god  possesses  this  altar, 


LATONA  AND  THE  RUSTICS 


37 


but  she  whom  royal  Juno  in  her  jealousy  drove  from  land 
to  land,  denying  her  any  spot  of  earth  whereon  to  rear 
her  twins.  Bearing  in  her  arms  the  infant  deities,  Latona 
reached  this  land,  weary  with  her  burden  and  parched 
with  thirst.  By  chance  she  espied  on  the  bottom  of  the 
valley  this  pond  of  clear  water,  where  the  country  people 
were  at  work  gathering  willows  and  osiers.  The  goddess 
approached,  and  kneeling  on  the  bank  would  have  slaked 
her  thirst  in  the  cool  stream,  but  the  rustics  forbade  her. 
‘Why  do  you  refuse  me  water?’  said  she;  ‘water  is 
free  to  all.  Nature  allows  no  one  to  claim  as  property 
the  sunshine,  the  air,  or  the  water.  I  come  to  take  my 
share  of  the  common  blessing.  Yet  I  ask  it  of  you  as  a 
favor.  I  have  no  intention  of  washing  my  limbs  in  it, 
weary  though  they  be,  but  only  to  quench  my  thirst.  My 
mouth  is  so  dry  that  I  can  hardly  speak.  A  draught  of 
water  would  be  nectar  to  me ;  it  would  revive  me,  and  I 
would  own  myself  indebted  to  you  for  life  itself.  Let 
these  infants  move  your  pity,  who  stretch  out  their  little 
arms  as  if  to  plead  for  me;’  and  the  children,  as  it 
happened,  were  stretching  out  their  arms. 

“Who  would  not  have  been  moved  with  these  gentle 
words  of  the  goddess?  But  these  clowns  persisted  in 
their  rudeness;  they  even  added  jeers  and  threats  of  vio¬ 
lence  if  she  did  not  leave  the  place.  Nor  was  this  all. 
They  waded  into  the  pond  and  stirred  up  the  mud  with 
their  feet,  so  as  to  make  the  water  unfit  to  drink.  Latona 
was  so  angry  that  she  ceased  to  mind  her  thirst.  She 
no  longer  supplicated  the  clowns,  but  lifting  her  hands  to 
heaven  exclaimed,  ‘May  they  never  quit  that  pool,  but 
pass  their  lives  there !’  And  it  came  to  pass  accordingly. 
They  now  live  in  the  water,  sometimes  totally  submerged, 
then  raising  their  heads  above  the  surface  or  swimming 
upon  it.  Sometimes  they  come  out  upon  the  bank,  but 
soon  leap  back  again  into  the  water.  They  still  use  their 
base  voices  in  railing,  and  though  they  have  the  water 
all  to  themselves,  are  not  ashamed  to  croak  in  the  midst 
of  it.  Their  voices  are  harsh,  their  throats  bloated,  their 
mouths  have  become  stretched  by  constant  railing,  their 
necks  have  shrunk  up  and  disappeared,  and  their  heads 
are  joined  to  their  bodies.  Their  backs  are  green,  their 


38 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


disproportioned  bellies  white,  and  in  short  they  are  now 
frogs,  and  dwell  in  the  slimy  pool.” 

This  story  explains  the  allusion  in  one  of  Milton’s 
sonnets,  “On  the  detraction  which  followed  upon  his 
writing  certain  treatises.” 

“I  did  but  prompt  the  age  to  quit  their  clogs 
By  the  known  laws  of  ancient  liberty, 

When  straight  a  barbarous  noise  environs  me 
Of  owls  and  cuckoos,  asses,  apes  and  dogs. 

As  when  those  hinds  that  were  transformed  to  frogs 
Railed  at  Latona’ s  twin-born  progeny, 

Which  after  held  the  sun  and  moon  in  fee.” 

The  persecution  which  Latona  experienced  from  Juno 
is  alluded  to  in  the  story.  The  tradition  was  that  the 
future  mother  of  Apollo  and  Diana,  flying  from  the  wrath 
of  Juno,  besought  all  the  islands  of  the  Higean  to  afford 
her  a  place  of  rest,  but  all  feared  too  much  the  potent 
queen  of  heaven  to  assist  her  rival.  Delos  alone  consent¬ 
ed  to  become  the  birthplace  of  the  future  deities.  Delos 
was  then  a  floating  island ;  but  when  Latona  arrived  there, 
Jupiter  fastened  it  with  adamantine  chains  to  the  bottom 
of  the  sea,  that  it  might  be  a  secure  resting-place  for  his 
beloved.  Byron  alludes  to  Delos  in  his  “Don  Juan”: 

“The  isles  of  Greece!  the  isles  of  Greece! 

Where  burning  Sappho  loved  and  sung, 

Where  grew  the  arts  of  war  and  peace, 

Where  Delos  rose  and  Phoebus  sprung!” 


CHAPTER  V 


PHAETON 

Phaeton  was  the  son  of  Apollo  and  the  nymph  Cly- 
mene.  One  day  a  schoolfellow  laughed  at  the  idea  of 
his  being  the  son  of  the  god,  and  Phaeton  went  in  rage 
and  shame  and  reported  it  to  his  mother.  “If,”  said  he, 
“I  am  indeed  of  heavenly  birth,  give  me,  mother,  some 


PHAETON 


39 


proof  of  it,  and  establish  my  claim  to  the  honor.”  Cly- 
mene  stretched  forth  her  hands  towards  the  skies,  and 
said,  “I  call  to  witness  the  Sun  which  looks  down  upon 
us,  that  I  have  told  you  the  truth.  If  I  speak  falsely, 
let  this  be  the  last  time  I  behold  his  light.  But  it  needs 
not  much  labor  to  go  and  inquire  for  yourself ;  the  land 
whence  the  Sun  rises  lies  next  to  ours.  Go  and  demand 
of  him  whether  he  will  own  you  as  a  son.”  Phaeton 
heard  with  delight.  He  travelled  to  India,  which  lies 
directly  in  the  regions  of  sunrise;  and,  full  of  hope  and 
pride,  approached  the  goal  whence  his  parent  begins  his 
course. 

The  palace  of  the  Sun  stood  reared  aloft  on  columns, 
glittering  with  gold  and  precious  stones,  while  polished 
ivory  formed  the  ceilings,  and  silver  the  doors.  The 
workmanship  surpassed  the  material ; 1  for  upon  the 
walls  Vulcan  had  represented  earth,  sea,  and  skies,  with 
their  inhabitants.  In  the  sea  were  the  nymphs,  some 
sporting  in  the  waves,  some  riding  on  the  backs  of  fishes, 
while  others  sat  upon  the  rocks  and  dried  their  sea-green 
hair.  Their  faces  were  not  all  alike,  nor  yet  unlike, — 
but  such  as  sisters'  ought  to  be.1  The  earth  had  its  towns 
and  forests  and  rivers  and  rustic  divinities.  Over  all  was 
carved  the  likeness  of  the  glorious  heaven;  and  on  the 
silver  doors  the  twelve  signs  of  the  zodiac,  six  on  each 
side. 

Clymene’s  son  advanced  up  the  steep  ascent,  and 
entered  the  halls  of  his  disputed  father.  He  approached 
the  paternal  presence,  but  stopped  at  a  distance,  for  the 
light  was  more  than  he  could  bear.  Phoebus,  arrayed 
in  a  purple  vesture,  sat  on  a  throne,  which  glittered  as 
with  diamonds.  On  his  right  hand  and  his  left  stood  the 
Day,  the  Month,  and  the  Year,  and,  at  regular  intervals, 
the  Hours.  Spring  stood  with  her  head  crowned  with 
flowers,  and  Summer,  with  garment  cast  aside,  and  a 
garland  formed  of  spears  of  ripened  grain,  and  Autumn, 
with  his  feet  stained  with  grape-juice,  and  icy  Winter, 
with  his  hair  stiffened  with  hoar  frost.  Surrounded  by 
these  attendants,  the  Sun,  with  the  eye  that  sees  every¬ 
thing,  beheld  the  youth  dazzled  with  the  novelty  and 

1  See  Proverbial  Expressions. 


40 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


splendor  of  the  scene,  and  inquired  the  purpose  of  his 
errand.  The  youth  replied,  “O  light  of  the  boundless 
world,  Phoebus,  my  father, — if  you  permit  me  to  use  that 
name, — give  me  some  proof,  I  beseech  you,  by  which  I 
may  be  known  as  yours.”  He  ceased ;  and  his  father, 
laying  aside  the  beams  that  shone  all  around  his  head, 
bade  him  approach,  and  embracing  him,  said,  “My  son, 
you  deserve  not  to  be  disowned,  and  I  confirm  what  your 
mother  has  told  you.  To  put  an  end  to  your  doubts,  ask 
what  you  will,  the  gift  shall  be  yours.  I  call  to  witness 
that  dreadful  lake,  which  I  never  saw,  but  which  we  gods 
swear  by  in  our  most  solemn  engagements.”  Phaeton 
immediately  asked  to  be  permitted  for  one  day  to  drive 
the  chariot  of  the  sun.  The  father  repented  of  his 
promise ;  thrice  and  four  times  he  shook  his  radiant  head 
in  warning.  “I  have  spoken  rashly,”  said  he ;  “this  only 
request  I  would  fain  deny.  I  beg  you  to  withdraw  it. 
It  is  not  a  safe  boon,  nor  one,  my  Phaeton,  suited  to  your 
youth  and  strength.  Your  lot  is  mortal,  and  you  ask  what 
is  beyond  a  mortal’s  power.  In  your  ignorance  you  aspire 
to  do  that  which  not  even  the  gods  themselves  may  do. 
None  but  myself  may  drive  the  flaming  car  of  day.  Not 
even  Jupiter,  whose  terrible  right  arm  hurls  the  thunder¬ 
bolts.  The  first  part  of  the  way  is  steep,  and  such  as 
the  horses  when  fresh  in  the  morning  can  hardly  climb ; 
the  middle  is  high  up  in  the  heavens,  whence  I  myself 
can  scarcely,  without  alarm,  look  down  and  behold  the 
earth  and  sea  stretched  beneath  me.  The  last  part  of  the 
road  descends  rapidly,  and  requires  most  careful  driving. 
Tethys,  who  is  waiting  to  receive  me,  often  trembles  for 
me  lest  I  should  fall  headlong.  Add  to  all  this,  the  heaven 
is  all  the  time  turning  round  and  carrying  the  stars  with 
it.  I  have  to  be  perpetually  on  my  guard  lest  that  move¬ 
ment,  which  sweeps  everything  else  along,  should  hurry 
me  also  away.  Suppose  I  should  lend  you  the  chariot, 
what  would  you  do  ?  Could  you  keep  your  course  while 
the  sphere  was  revolving  under  you  ?  Perhaps  you  think 
that  there  are  forests  and  cities,  the  abodes  of  gods,  and 
palaces  and  temples  on  the  way.  On  the  contrary,  the 
road  is  through  the  midst  of  frightful  monsters.  You 
pass  by  the  horns  of  the  Bull,  in  front  of  the  Archer,  and 


PHAETON 


41 


near  the  Lion’s  jaws,  and  where  the  Scorpion  stretches 
its  arms  in  one  direction  and  the  Crab  in  another.  Nor 
will  you  find  it  easy  to  guide  those  horses,  with  their 
breasts  full  of  fire  that  they  breathe  forth  from  their 
mouths  and  nostrils.  I  can  scarcely  govern  them  myself, 
when  they  are  unruly  and  resist  the  reins.  Beware,  my 
son,  lest  I  be  the  donor  of  a  fatal  gift ;  recall  your  request 
while  yet  you  may.  Do  you  ask  me  for  a  proof  that  you 
are  sprung  from  my  blood?  I  give  you  a  proof  in  my 
fears  for  you.  Look  at  my  face — I  would  that  you  could 
look  into  my  breast,  you  would  there  see  all  a  father’s 
anxiety.  Finally,”  he  continued,  “look  round  the  world 
and  choose  whatever  you  will  of  what  earth  or  sea  con¬ 
tains  most  precious — ask  it  and  fear  no  refusal.  This 
only  I  pray  you  not  to  urge.  It  is  not  honor,  but  destruc¬ 
tion  you  seek.  Why  do  you  hang  round  my  neck  and  still 
entreat  me?  You  shall  have  it  if  you  persist, — the  oath 
is  sworn  and  must  be  kept, — but  I  beg  you  to  choose  more 
wisely.” 

He  ended;  but  the  youth  rejected  all  admonition  and 
held  to  his  demand.  So,  having  resisted  as  long  as  he 
could,  Phoebus  at  last  led  the  way  to  where  stood  the  lofty 
chariot. 

It  was  of  gold,  the  gift  of  Vulcan ;  the  axle  was  of  gold, 
the  pole  and  wheels  of  gold,  the  spokes  of  silver.  Along 
the  seat  were  rows  of  chrysolites  and  diamonds  which 
reflected  all  around  the  brightness  of  the  sun.  While 
the  daring  youth  gazed  in  admiration,  the  early  Dawn 
threw  open  the  purple  doors  of  the  east,  and  showed  the 
pathway  strewn  with  roses.  The  stars  withdrew,  mar¬ 
shalled  by  the  Day-star,  which  last  of  all  retired  also. 
The  father,  when  he  saw  the  earth  beginning  to  glow,  and 
the  Moon  preparing  to  retire,  ordered  the  Hours  to  har¬ 
ness  up  the  horses.  They  obeyed,  and  led  forth  from  the 
lofty  stalls  the  steeds  full  fed  with  ambrosia,  and  attached 
the  reins.  Then  the  father  bathed  the  face  of  his  son 
with  a  powerful  unguent,  and  made  him  capable  of  en¬ 
during  the  brightness  of  the  flame.  He  set  the  rays  on 
his  head,  and,  with  a  foreboding  sigh,  said,  “If,  my  son, 
you  will  in  this  at  least  heed  my  advice,  spare  the  whip 
and  hold  tight  the  reins.  They  go  fast  enough  of  their 


42 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


own  accord;  the  labor  is  to  hold  them  in.  You  are  not 
to  take  the  straight  road  directly  between  the  five  circles, 
but  turn  off  to  the  left.  Keep  within  the  limit  of  the 
middle  zone,  and  avoid  the  northern  and  the  southern 
alike.  You  will  see  the  marks  of  the  wheels,  and  they 
will  serve  to  guide  you.  And,  that  the  skies  and  the  earth 
may  each  receive  their  due  share  of  heat,  go  not  too  high, 
or  you  will  burn  the  heavenly  dwellings,  nor  too  low,  or 
you  will  set  the  earth  on  fire ;  the  middle  course  is  safest 
and  best.1  And  now  I  leave  you  to  your  chance,  which  I 
hope  will  plan  better  for  you  than  you  have  done  for 
yourself.  Night  is  passing  out  of  the  western  gates  and 
we  can  delay  no  longer.  Take  the  reins;  but  if  at  last 
your  heart  fails  you,  and  you  will  benefit  by  my  advice, 
Istay  where  you  are  in  safety,  and  suffer  me  to  light  and 
warm  the  earth.”  The  agile  youth  sprang  into  the  chariot, 
stood  erect,  and  grasped  the  reins  with  delight,  pouring 
out  thanks  to  his  reluctant  parent. 

Meanwhile  the  horses  fill  the  air  with  their  snortings 
and  fiery  breath,  and  stamp  the  ground  impatient.  Now 
the  bars  are  let  down,  and  the  boundless  plain  of  the 
universe  lies  open  before  them.  They  dart  forward  and 
cleave  the  opposing  clouds,  and  outrun  the  morning 
breezes  which  started  from  the  same  eastern  goal.  The 
steeds  soon  perceived  that  the  load  they  drew  was  lighter 
than  usual ;  and  as  a  ship  without  ballast  is  tossed  hither 
and  thither  on  the  sea,  so  the  chariot,  without  its  accus¬ 
tomed  weight,  was  dashed  about  as  if  empty.  They  rush 
headlong  and  leave  the  travelled  road.  He  is  alarmed, 
and  knows  not  how  to  guide  them;  nor,  if  he  knew,  has 
he  the  power.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  the  Great  and 
Little  Bear  were  scorched  with  heat,  and  would  fain, 
if  it  were  possible,  have  plunged  into  the  water ;  and  the 
Serpent  which  lies  coiled  up  round  the  north  pole,  torpid 
and  harmless,  grew  warm,  and  with  warmth  felt  its  rage 
revive.  Bootes,  they  say,  fled  away,  though  encumbered 
with  his  plough,  and  all  unused  to  rapid  motion. 

When  hapless  Phaeton  looked  down  upon  the  earth, 
now  spreading  in  vast  extent  beneath  him,  he  grew  pale 
and  his  knees  shook  with  terror.  In  spite  of  the  glare 

1  See  Proverbial  Expressions. 


PHAETON 


43 


all  around  him,  the  sight  of  his  eyes  grew  dim.  He 
wished  he  had  never  touched  his  father’s  horses,  never 
learned  his  parentage,  never  prevailed  in  his  request.  He 
is  borne  along  like  a  vessel  that  flies  before  a  tempest, 
when  the  pilot  can  do  no  more  and  betakes  himself  to  his 
prayers.  What  shall  he  do  ?  Much  of  the  heavenly  road 
is  left  behind,  but  more  remains  before.  He  turns  his 
eyes  from  one  direction  to  the  other;  now  to  the  goal 
whence  he  began  his  course,  now  to  the  realms  of  sunset 
which  he  is  not  destined  to  reach.  He  loses  his  self-com¬ 
mand,  and  knows  not  what  to  do, — whether  to  draw  tight 
the  reins  or  throw  them  loose;  he  forgets  the  names  of 
the  horses.  He  sees  with  terror  the  monstrous  forms 
scattered  over  the  surface  of  heaven.  Here  the  Scor¬ 
pion  extended  his  two  great  arms,  with  his  tail  and 
crooked  claws  stretching  over  two  signs  of  the  zodiac. 
When  the  boy  beheld  him,  reeking  with  poison  and  men¬ 
acing  with  his  fangs,  his  courage  failed,  and  the  reins 
fell  from  his  hands.  The  horses,  when  they  felt  them 
loose  on  their  backs,  dashed  headlong,  and  unrestrained 
went  off  into  unknown  regions  of  the  sky,  in  among  the 
stars,  hurling  the  chariot  over  pathless  places,  now  up  in 
high  heaven,  now  down  almost  to  the  earth.  The  moon 
saw  with  astonishment  her  brother’s  chariot  running  be¬ 
neath  her  own.  The  clouds  begin  to  smoke,  and  the 
mountain  tops  take  fire ;  the  fields  are  parched  with  heat, 
the  plants  wither,  the  trees  with  their  leafy  branches  burn, 
the  harvest  is  ablaze !  But  these  are  small  things.  Great 
cities  perished,  with  their  walls  and  towers ;  whole  nations 
with  their  people  were  consumed  to  ashes !  The  forest- 
clad  mountains  burned,  Athos  and  Taurus  and  Tmolus 
and  CEte ;  Ida,  once  celebrated  for  fountains,  but  now  all 
dry ;  the  Muses’  mountain  Helicon,  and  Hsemus ;  iEtna, 
with  fires  within  and  without,  and  Parnassus,  with  his 
two  peaks,  and  Rhodope,  forced  at  last  to  part  with  his 
snowy  crown.  Her  cold  climate  was  no  protection  to 
Scythia,  Caucasus  burned,  and  Ossa  and  Pindus,  and, 
greater  than  both,  Olympus ;  the  Alps  high  in  air,  and  the 
Apennines  crowned  with  clouds. 

Then  Phaeton  beheld  the  world  on  fire,  and  felt  the 
heat  intolerable.  The  air  he  breathed  was  like  the  air 


44 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


of  a  furnace  and  full  of  burning  ashes,  and  the  smoke 
was  of  a  pitchy  darkness.  He  dashed  forward  he  knew 
not  whither.  Then,  it  is  believed,  the  people  of  Ethiopia 
became  black  by  the  blood  being  forced  so  suddenly  to 
the  surface,  and  the  Libyan  desert  was  dried  up  to  the 
condition  in  which  it  remains  to  this  day.  The  Nymphs 
of  the  fountains,  with  dishevelled  hair,  mourned  their 
waters,  nor  were  the  rivers  safe  beneath  their  banks : 
Tanais  smoked,  and  Caicus,  Xanthus,  and  Meander; 
Babylonian  Euphrates  and  Ganges,  Tagus  with  golden 
sands,  and  Cayster  where  the  swans  resort.  Nile  fled 
away  and  hid  his  head  in  the  desert,  and  there  it  still 
remains  concealed.  Where  he  used  to  discharge  his 
waters  through  seven  mouths  into  the  sea,  there  seven 
dry  channels  alone  remained.  The  earth  cracked  open, 
and  through  the  chinks  light  broke  into  Tartarus,  and 
frightened  the  king  of  shadows  and  his  queen.  The  sea 
shrank  up.  Where  before  was  water,  it  became  a  dry 
plain ;  and  the  mountains  that  lie  beneath  the  waves  lifted 
up  their  heads  and  became  islands.  The  fishes  sought 
the  lowest  depths,  and  the  dolphins  no  longer  ventured  as 
usual  to  sport  on  the  surface.  Even  Nereus,  and  his  wife 
Doris,  with  the  Nereids,  their  daughters,  sought  the  deep¬ 
est  caves  for  refuge.  Thrice  Neptune  essayed  to  raise 
his  head  above  the  surface,  and  thrice  was  driven  back 
by  the  heat.  Earth,  surrounded  as  she  was  by  waters, 
yet  with  head  and  shoulders  bare,  screening  her  face  with 
her  hand,  looked  up  to  heaven,  and  with  a  husky  voice 
called  on  Jupiter: 

“O  ruler  of  the  gods,  if  I  have  deserved  this  treatment, 
and  it  is  your  will  that  I  perish  with  fire,  why  withhold 
your  thunderbolts?  Let  me  at  least  fall  by  your  hand. 
Is  this  the  reward  of  my  fertility,  of  my  obedient  service? 
Is  it  for  this  that  I  have  supplied  herbage  for  cattle,  and 
fruits  for  men,  and  frankincense  for  your  altars?  But 
if  I  am  unworthy  of  regard,  what  has  my  brother  Ocean 
done  to  deserve  such  a  fate?  If  neither  of  us  can  excite 
your  pity,  think,  I  pray  you,  of  your  own  heaven,  and 
behold  how  both  the  poles  are  smoking  which  sustain 
your  palace,  which  must  fall  if  they  be  destroyed.  Atlas 
faints,  and  scarce  holds  up  his  burden.  If  sea,  earth, 


PHAETON  45 

and  heaven  perish,  we  fall  into  ancient  Chaos.  Save  what 
yet  remains  to  us  from  the  devouring  flame.  O,  take 
thought  for  our  deliverance  in  this  awful  moment !” 

Thus  spoke  Earth,  and  overcome  with  heat  and  thirst, 
could  say  no  more.  Then  Jupiter  omnipotent,  calling  to 
witness  all  the  gods,  including  him  who  had  lent  the 
chariot,  and  showing  them  that  all  was  lost  unless  speedy 
remedy  were  applied,  mounted  the  lofty  tower  from 
whence  he  diffuses  clouds  over  the  earth,  and  hurls  the 
forked  lightnings.  But  at  that  time  not  a  cloud  was  to 
be  found  to  interpose  for  a  screen  to  earth,  nor  was  a 
shower  remaining  unexhausted.  He  thundered,  and 
brandishing  a  lightning  bolt  in  his  right  hand  launched 
it  against  the  charioteer,  and  struck  him  at  the  same  mo¬ 
ment  from  his  seat  and  from  existence!  Phaeton,  with 
his  hair  on  fire,  fell  headlong,  like  a  shooting  star  which 
marks  the  heavens  with  its  brightness  as  it  falls,  and 
Eridanus,  the  great  river,  received  him  and  cooled  his 
burning  frame.  The  Italian  Naiads  reared  a  tomb  for 
him,  and  inscribed  these  words  upon  the  stone : 

“Driver  of  Phoebus’  chariot,  Phaeton, 

Struck  by  Jove’s  thunder,  rests  beneath  this  stone. 

He  could  not  rule  his  father’s  car  of  fire, 

Yet  was  it  much  so  nobly  to  aspire.”1 

His  sisters,  the  Heliades,  as  they  lamented  his  fate, 
were  turned  into  poplar  trees,  on  the  banks  of  the  river, 
and  their  tears,  which  continued  to  flow,  became  amber 
as  they  dropped  into  the  stream. 

Milman,  in  his  poem  of  “Samor,”  makes  the  following 
allusion  to  Phaeton’s  story : 

“As  when  the  palsied  universe  aghast 
Lay  .  .  .  mute  and  still, 

When  drove,  so  poets  sing,  the  Sun-bom  youth 
Devious  through  Heaven’s  affrighted  signs  his  sire’s 
Ill-granted  chariot.  Him  the  Thunderer  hurled 
From  th’  empyrean  headlong  to  the  gulf 
Of  the  half-parched  Eridanus,  where  weep 
Even  now  the  sister  trees  their  amber  tears 
O’er  Phaeton  untimely  dead.” 

In  the  beautiful  lines  of  Walter  Savage  Landor,  de- 

1  See  Proverbial  Expressions. 


46 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


scriptive  of  the  Sea-shell,  there  is  an  allusion  to  the  Sun’s 
palace  and  chariot.  The  water-nymph  says : 

"...  I  have  sinuous  shells  of  pearly  hue 
Within,  and  things  that  lustre  have  imbibed 
In  the  sun’s  palace  porch,  where  when  unyoked 
His  chariot  wheel  stands  midway  on  the  wave. 

Shake  one  and  it  awakens;  then  apply 
Its  polished  lip  to  your  attentive  ear, 

And  it  remembers  its  august  abodes, 

And  murmurs  as  the  ocean  murmurs  there.” 

— Gebir,  Book  I. 


CHAPTER  VI 

MIDAS — BAUCIS  AND  PHILEMON 

Bacchus,  on  a  certain  occasion,  found  his  old  school¬ 
master  and  foster-father,  Silenus,  missing.  The  old  man 
had  been  drinking,  and  in  that  state  wandered  away,  and 
was  found  by  some  peasants,  who  carried  him  to  their 
king,  Midas.  Midas  recognized  him,  and  treated  him 
hospitably,  entertaining  him  for  ten  days  and  nights  with 
an  unceasing  round  of  jollity.  On  the  eleventh  day  he 
brought  Silenus  back,  and  restored  him  in  safety  to  his 
pupil.  Whereupon  Bacchus  offered  Midas  his  choice 
of  a  reward,  whatever  he  might  wish.  He  asked  that 
whatever  he  might  touch  should  be  changed  into  gold. 
Bacchus  consented,  though  sorry  that  he  had  not  made  a 
better  choice.  Midas  went  his  way,  rejoicing  in  his  new- 
acquired  power,  which  he  hastened  to  put  to  the  test. 
He  could  scarce  believe  his  eyes  when  he  found  a  twig 
of  an  oak,  which  he  plucked  from  the  branch,  become 
gold  in  his  hand.  He  took  up  a  stone ;  it  changed  to  gold. 
He  touched  a  sod ;  it  did  the  same.  He  took  an  apple 
from  the  tree;  you  would  have  thought  he  had  robbed 
the  garden  of  the  Hesperides.  His  joy  knew  no  bounds, 
and  as  soon  as  he  got  home,  he  ordered  the  servants  to 
set  a  splendid  repast  on  the  table.  Then  he  found  to  his 
dismay  that  whether  he  touched  bread,  it  hardened  in  his 


MIDAS 


47 

hand ;  or  put  a  morsel  to  his  lips,  it  defied  his  teeth.  He 
took  a  glass  of  wine,  but  it  flowed  down  his  throat  like 
melted  gold. 

In  consternation  at  the  unprecedented  affliction,  he 
strove  to  divest  himself  of  his  power;  he  hated  the  gift 
he  had  lately  coveted.  But  all  in  vain ;  starvation  seemed 
to  await  him.  He  raised  his  arms,  all  shining  with  gold, 
in  prayer  to  Bacchus,  begging  to  be  delivered  from  his 
glittering  destruction.  Bacchus,  merciful  deity,  heard  and 
consented.  ‘‘Go,”  said  he,  '‘to  the  River  Pactolus,  trace 
the  stream  to  its  fountain-head,  there  plunge  your  head 
and  body  in,  and  wash  away  your  fault  and  its  pun¬ 
ishment/’  He  did  so,  and  scarce  had  he  touched  the 
waters  before  the  gold-creating  power  passed  into  them, 
and  the  river-sands  became  changed  into  gold,  as  they 
remain  to  this  day. 

Thenceforth  Midas,  hating  wealth  and  splendor,  dwelt 
in  the  country,  and  became  a  worshipper  of  Pan,  the 
god  of  the  fields.  On  a  certain  occasion  Pan  had  the 
temerity  to  compare  his  music  with  that  of  Apollo,  and 
to  challenge  the  god  of  the  lyre  to  a  trial  of  skill.  The 
challenge  was  accepted,  and  Tmolus,  the  mountain  god, 
was  chosen  umpire.  The  senior  took  his  seat,  and  cleared 
away  the  trees  from  his  ears  to  listen.  At  a  given  signal 
Pan  blew  on  his  pipes,  and  with  his  rustic  melody  gave 
great  satisfaction  to  himself  and  his  faithful  follower 
Midas,  who  happened  to  be  present.  Then  Tmolus  turned 
his  head  toward  the  Sun-god,  and  all  his  trees  turned  with 
him.  Apollo  rose,  his  brow  wreathed  with  Parnassian 
laurel,  while  his  robe  of  Tyrian  purple  swept  the  ground. 
In  his  left  hand  he  held  the  lyre,  and  with  his  right  hand 
struck  the  strings.  Ravished  with  the  harmony,  Tmolus 
at  once  awarded  the  victory  to  the  god  of  the  lyre,  and 
all  but  Midas  acquiesced  in  the  judgment.  He  dissented, 
and  questioned  the  justice  of  the  award.  Apollo  would 
not  suffer  such  a  depraved  pair  of  ears  any  longer  to 
wear  the  human  form,  but  caused  them  to  increase  in 
length,  grow  hairy,  within  and  without,  and  movable  on 
their  roots ;  in  short,  to  be  on  the  perfect  pattern  of  those 
of  an  ass. 

Mortified  enough  was  King  Midas  at  this  mishap ;  but 


48 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


he  consoled  himself  with  the  thought  that  it  was  possible 
to  hide  his  misfortune,  which  he  attempted  to  do  by  means 
of  an  ample  turban  or  head-dress.  But  his  hair-dresser 
of  course  knew  the  secret.  He  was  charged  not  to  men¬ 
tion  it,  and  threatened  with  dire  punishment  if  he  pre¬ 
sumed  to  disobey.  But  he  found  it  too  much  for  his 
discretion  to  keep  such  a  secret ;  so  he  went  out  into  the 
meadow,  dug  a  hole  in  the  ground,  and  stooping  down, 
whispered  the  story,  and  covered  it  up.  Before  long  a 
thick  bed  of  reeds  sprang  up  in  the  meadow,  and  as  soon 
as  it  had  gained  its  growth,  began  whispering  the  story, 
and  has  continued  to  do  so,  from  that  day  to  this,  every 
time  a  breeze  passes  over  the  place. 

The  story  of  King  Midas  has  been  told  by  others  with 
some  variations.  Dryden,  in  the  “Wife  of  Bath’s  Tale,” 
makes  Midas’s  queen  the  betrayer  of  the  secret : 

“This  Midas  knew,  and  durst  communicate 
To  none  but  to  his  wife  his  ears  of  state/' 


Midas  was  king  of  Phrygia.  He  was  the  son  of  Gor¬ 
dius,  a  poor  countryman,  who  was  taken  by  the  people 
and  made  king,  in  obedience  to  the  command  of  the 
oracle,  which  had  said  that  their  future  king  should  come 
in  a  wagon.  While  the  people  were  deliberating,  Gor¬ 
dius  with  his  wife  and  son  came  driving  his  wagon  into 
the  public  square. 

Gordius,  being  rfiade  king,  dedicated  his  wagon  to  the 
deity  of  the  oracle,  and  tied  it  up  in  its  place  with  a  fast 
knot.  This  was  the  celebrated  Gordian  knot ,  which,  in 
after  times  it  was  said,  whoever  should  untie  should  be¬ 
come  lord  of  all  Asia.  Many  tried  to  untie  it,  but  none 
succeeded,  till  Alexander  the  Great,  in  his  career  of  con¬ 
quest,  came  to  Phrygia.  He  tried  his  skill  with  as  ill  suc¬ 
cess  as  others,  till  growing  impatient  he  drew  his  sword 
and  cut  the  knot.  When  he  afterwards  succeeded  in 
subjecting  all  Asia  to  his  sway,  people  began  to  think  that 
he  had  complied  with  the  terms  of  the  oracle  according 
to  its  true  meaning. 


BAUCIS  AND  PHILEMON 


49 


BAUCIS  AND  PHILEMON 

On  a  certain  hill  in  Phrygia  stands  a  linden  tree  and 
an  oak,  enclosed  by  a  low  wall.  Not  far  from  the  spot 
is  a  marsh,  formerly  good  habitable  land,  but  now  in¬ 
dented  with  pools,  the  resort  of  fen-birds  and  cormorants. 
Once  on  a  time  Jupiter,  in  human  shape,  visited  this 
country,  and  with  him  his  son  Mercury  (he  of  the  ca- 
duceus),  without  his  wings.  They  presented  themselves, 
as  weary  travellers,  at  many  a  door,  seeking  rest  and 
shelter,  but  found  all  closed,  for  it  was  late,  and  the  in¬ 
hospitable  inhabitants  would  not  rouse  themselves  to  open 
for  their  reception.  At  last  a  humble  mansion  received 
them,  a  small  thatched  cottage,  where  Baucis,  a  pious  old 
dame,  and  her  husband  Philemon,  united  when  young, 
had  grown  old  together.  Not  ashamed  of  their  poverty, 
they  made  it  endurable  by  moderate  desires  and  kind  dis¬ 
positions.  One  need  not  look  there  for  master  or  for 
servant ;  they  two  were  the  whole  household,  master  and 
servant  alike.  When  the  two  heavenly  guests  crossed 
the  humble  threshold,  and  bowed  their  heads  to  pass 
under  the  low  door,  the  old  man  placed  a  seat,  on  which 
Baucis,  bustling  and  attentive,  spread  a  cloth,  and  begged 
them  to  sit  down.  Then  she  raked  out  the  coals  from  the 
ashes,  and  kindled  up  a  fire,  fed  it  with  leaves  and  dry 
bark,  and  with  her  scanty  breath  blew  it  into  a  flame. 
She  brought  out  of  a  corner  split  sticks  and  dry  branches, 
broke  them  up,  and  placed  them  under  the  small  kettle. 
Her  husband  collected  some  pot-herbs  in  the  garden,  and 
she  shred  them  from  the  stalks,  and  prepared  them  for 
the  pot.  He  reached  down  with  a  forked  stick  a  flitch  of 
bacon  hanging  in  the  chimney,  cut  a  small  piece,  and  put 
it  in  the  pot  to  boil  with  the  herbs,  setting  away  the  rest 
for  another  time.  A  beechen  bowl  was  filled  with  warm 
water,  that  their  guests  might  wash.  While  all  was  do¬ 
ing,  they  beguiled  the  time  with  conversation. 

On  the  bench  designed  for  the  guests  was  laid  a  cush¬ 
ion  stuffed  with  sea-weed ;  and  a  cloth,  only  produced 
on  great  occasions,  but  ancient  and  coarse  enough,  was 
spread  over  that.  The  old  lady,  with  her  apron  on,  with 
trembling  hand  set  the  table.  One  leg  was  shorter  than 


DO 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


the  rest,  but  a  piece  of  slate  put  under  restored  the  level. 
When  fixed,  she  rubbed  the  table  down  with  some  sweet¬ 
smelling  herbs.  Upon  it  she  set  some  of  chaste  Minerva’s 
olives,  some  cornel  berries  preserved  in  vinegar,  and 
added  radishes  and  cheese,  with  eggs  lightly  cooked  in 
the  ashes.  All  were  served  in  earthen  dishes,  and  an 
earthenware  pitcher,  with  wooden  cups,  stood  beside 
them.  When  all  was  ready,  the  stew,  smoking  hot,  was 
set  on  the  table.  Some  wine,  not  of  the  oldest,  was 
added ;  and  for  dessert,  apples  and  wild  honey ;  and  over 
and  above  all,  friendly  faces,  and  simple  but  hearty 
welcome. 

Now  while  the  repast  proceeded,  the  old  folks  were 
astonished  to  see  that  the  wine,  as  fast  as  it  was  poured 
out,  renewed  itself  in  the  pitcher,  of  its  own  accord. 
Struck  with  terror,  Baucis  and  Philemon  recognized  their 
heavenly  guests,  fell  on  their  knees,  and  with  clasped 
hands  implored  forgiveness  for  their  poor  entertain¬ 
ment.  There  was  an  old  goose,  which  they  kept  as  the 
guardian  of  their  humble  cottage;  and  they  bethought 
them  to  make  this  a  sacrifice  in  honor  of  their  guests. 
But  the  goose,  too  nimble,  with  the  aid  of  feet  and  wings, 
for  the  old  folks,  eluded  their  pursuit,  and  at  last  took 
shelter  between  the  gods  themselves.  They  forbade  it  to 
be  slain;  and  spoke  in  these  words:  “We  are  gods.  This 
inhospitable  village  shall  pay  the  penalty  of  its  impiety; 
you  alone  shall  go  free  from  the  chastisement.  Quit 
your  house,  and  come  with  us  to  the  top  of  yonder  hill.” 
They  hastened  to  obey,  and,  staff  in  hand,  labored  up  the 
steep  ascent.  They  had  reached  to  within  an  arrow’s 
flight  of  the  top,  when  turning  their  eyes  below,  they 
beheld  all  the  country  sunk  in  a  lake,  only  their  own 
house  left  standing.  While  they  gazed  with  wonder  at 
the  sight,  and  lamented  the  fate  of  their  neighbors,  that 
old  house  of  theirs  was  changed  into  a  temple .  Col¬ 
umns  took  the  place  of  the  corner  posts,  the  thatch  grew 
yellow  and  appeared  a  gilded  roof,  the  floors  became 
marble,  the  doors  were  enriched  with  carving  and  orna¬ 
ments  of  gold.  Then  spoke  Jupiter  in  benignant  accents : 
“Excellent  old  man,  and  woman  worthy  of  such  a  hus¬ 
band,  speak,  tell  us  your  wishes;  what  favor  have  you 


BAUCIS  AND  PHILEMON 


51 


to  ask  of  us?”  Philemon  took  counsel  with  Baucis  a 
few  moments;  then  declared  to  the  gods  their  united 
wish.  “We  ask  to  be  priests  and  guardians  of  this  your 
temple ;  and  since  here  we  have  passed  our  lives  in  love 
and  concord,  we  wish  that  one  and  the  same  hour  may 
take  us  both  from  life,  that  I  may  not  live  to  see  her 
grave,  nor  be  laid  in  my  own  by  her.”  Their  prayer  was 
granted.  They  were  the  keepers  of  the  temple  as  long 
as  they  lived.  When  grown  very  old,  as  they  stood  one 
day  before  the  steps  of  the  sacred  edifice,  and  were  telling 
the  story  of  the  place,  Baucis  saw  Philemon  begin  to 
put  forth  leaves,  and  old  Philemon  saw  Baucis  changing 
in  like  manner.  And  now  a  leafy  crown  had  grown 
over  their  heads,  while  exchanging  parting  words,  as 
long  as  they  could  speak.  “Farewell,  dear  spouse,”  they 
said,  together,  and  at  the  same  moment  the  bark  closed 
over  their  mouths.  The  Tyanean  shepherd  still  shows 
the  two  trees,  standing  side  by  side,  made  out  of  the 
two  good  old  people. 

The  story  of  Baucis  and  Philemon  has  been  imitated 
by  Swift,  in  a*  burlesque  style,  the  actors  in  the  change 
being  two  wandering  saints,  and  the  house  being  changed 
into  a  church,  of  which  Philemon  is  made  the  parson. 
The  following  may  serve  as  a  specimen : 

“They  scarce  had  spoke,  when,  fair  and  soft, 

The  roof  began  to  mount  aloft; 

Aloft  rose  every  beam  and  rafter; 

The  heavy  wall  climbed  slowly  after. 

The  chimney  widened  and  grew  higher* 

Became  a  steeple  with  a  spire. 

The  kettle  to  the  top  was  hoist. 

And  there  stood  fastened  to  a  joist, 

But  with  the  upside  down,  to  show 
Its  inclination  for  below; 

In  vain,  for  a  superior  force, 

Applied  at  bottom,  stops  its  course; 

Doomed  ever  in  suspense  to  dwell, 

’Tis  now  no  kettle,  but  a  bell. 

A  wooden  jack,  which  had  almost 
Lost  by  disuse  the  art  to  roast, 

A  sudden  alteration  feels. 

Increased  by  new  intestine  wheels; 

And,  what  exalts  the  wonder  more, 


52 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


The  number  made  the  motion  slower; 

The  flier,  though ’t  had  leaden  feet, 

Turned  round  so  quick  you  scarce  could  see ’t; 
But  slackened  by  some  secret  power, 

Now  hardly  moves  an  inch,  an  hour. 

The  jack  and  chimney,  near  allied, 

Had  never  left  each  other’s  side : 

The  chimney  to  a  steeple  grown, 

The  jack  would  not  be  left  alone; 

But  up  against  the  steeple  reared, 

Became  a  clock,  and  still  adhered; 

And  still  its  love  to  household  cares 
By  a  shrill  voice  at  noon  declares, 

Warning  the  cook-maid  not  to  burn 
That  roast  meat  which  it  cannot  turn ; 

The  groaning  chair  began  to  crawl, 

Like  a  huge  snail,  along  the  wall; 

There  stuck  aloft  in  public  view, 

And  with  small  change,  a  pulpit  grew. 

A  bedstead  of  the  antique  mode, 

Compact  of  timber  many  a  load, 

Such  as  our  ancestors  did  use, 

Was  metamorphosed  into  pews, 

Which  still  their  ancient  nature  keep 
By  lodging  folks  disposed  to  sleep.” 


CHAPTER  VII 

PROSERPINE - GLAUCUS  AND  SCYLLA 

When  Jupiter  and  his  brothers  had  defeated  the 
Titans  and  banished  them  to  Tartarus,  a  new  enemy- 
rose  up  against  the  gods.  They  were  the  giants  Typhon, 
Briareus,  Enceladus,  and  others.  Some  of  them  had  a 
hundred  arms,  others  breathed  out  fire.  They  were 
finally  subdued  and  buried  alive  under  Mount  iEtna, 
where  they  still  sometimes  struggle  to  get  loose,  and 
shake  the  whole  island  with  earthquakes.  Their  breath 
comes  up  through  the  mountain,  and  is  what  men  call 
the  eruption  of  the  volcano. 

The  fall  of  these  monsters  shook  the  earth,  so  that 
Pluto  was  alarmed,  and  feared  that  his  kingdom  would 
be  laid  open  to  the  light  of  day.  Under  this  apprehen¬ 
sion,  he  mounted  his  chariot,  drawn  by  black  horses, 


PROSERPINE 


53 


and  took  a  circuit  of  inspection  to  satisfy  himself  of 
the  extent  of  the  damage.  While  he  was  thus  engaged, 
Venus,  who  was  sitting  on  Mount  Eryx  playing  with 
her  boy  Cupid,  espied  him,  and  said,  “My  son,  take  your 
darts  with  which  you  conquer  all,  even  Jove  himself, 
and  send  one  into  the  breast  of  yonder  dark  monarch, 
who  rules  the  realm  of  Tartarus.  Why  should  he  alone 
escape?  Seize  the  opportunity  to  extend  your  empire 
and  mine.  Do  you  not  see  that  even  in  heaven  some 
despise  our  power?  Minerva  the  wise,  and  Diana  the 
huntress,  defy  us;  and  there  is  that  daughter  of  Ceres, 
who  threatens  to  follow  their  example.  Now  do  you, 
if  you  have  any  regard  for  your  own  interest  or  mine, 
join  these  two  in  one.”  The  boy  unbound  his  quiver, 
and  selected  his  sharpest  and  truest  arrow ;  then  straining 
the  bow  against  his  knee,  he  attached  the  string,  and, 
having  made  ready,  shot  the  arrow  with  its  barbed  point 
right  into  the  heart  of  Pluto. 

In  the  vale  of  Enna  there  is  a  lake  embowered  in 
woods,  which  screen  it  from  the  fervid  rays  of  the  sun, 
while  the  moist  ground  is  covered  with  flowers,  and 
Spring  reigns  perpetual.  Here  Proserpine  was  playing 
with  her  companions,  gathering  lilies  and  violets,  and 
filling  her  basket  and  her  apron  with  them,  when  Pluto 
saw  her,  loved  her,  and  carried  her  off.  She  screamed 
for  help  to  her  mother  and  companions;  and  when  in 
her  fright  she  dropped  the  corners  of  her  apron  and 
let  the  flowers  fall,  childlike  she  felt  the  loss  of  them 
as  an  addition  to  her  grief.  The  ravisher  urged  on  his 
steeds,  calling  them  each  by  name,  and  throwing  loose 
over  their  heads  and  necks  his  iron-colored  reins.  When 
he  reached  the  River  Cyane,  and  it  opposed  his  passage, 
he  struck  the  river-bank  with  his  trident,  and  the  earth 
opened  and  gave  him  a  passage  to  Tartarus. 

Ceres  sought  her  daughter  all  the  world  over.  Bright¬ 
haired  Aurora,  when  she  came  forth  in  the  morning, 
and  Hesperus  when  he  led  out  the  stars  in  the  evening, 
found  her  still  busy  in  the  search.  But  it  was  all  un¬ 
availing.  At  length,  weary  and  sad,  she  sat  down  upon 
a  stone,  and  continued  sitting  nine  days  and  nights,  in 
the  open  air,  under  the  sunlight  and  moonlight  and  fall- 


54 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


ing  showers.  It  was  where  now  stands  the  city  of 
Eleusis,  then  the  home  of  an  old  man  named  Celeus. 
He  was  out  in  the  field,  gathering  acorns  and  black¬ 
berries,  and  sticks  for  his  fire.  His  little  girl  was  driving 
home  their  two  goats,  and  as  she  passed  the  goddess, 
who  appeared  in  the  guise  of  an  old  woman,  she  said 
to  her,  “Mother,” — and  the  name  was  sweet  to  the  ears 
of  Ceres, — “why  do  you  sit  here  alone  upon  the  rocks?” 
The  old  man  also  stopped,  though  his  load  was  heavy, 
and  begged  her  to  come  into  his  cottage,  such  as  it  was. 
She  declined,  and  he  urged  her.  “Go  in  peace,”  she 
replied,  “and  be  happy  in  your  daughter;  I  have  lost 
mine.”  As  she  spoke,  tears — or  something  like  tears, 
for  the  gods  never  weep — fell  down  her  cheeks  upon 
her  bosom.  The  compassionate  old  man  and  his  child 
wept  with  her.  Then  said  he,  “Come  with  us,  and  de¬ 
spise  not  our  humble  roof;  so  may  your  daughter  be 
restored  to  you  in  safety.”  “Lead  on,”  said  she,  “I  can¬ 
not  resist  that  appeal !”  So  she  rose  from  the  stone 
and  went  with  them.  As  they  walked  he  told  her  that 
his  only  son,  a  little  boy,  lay  very  sick,  feverish,  and 
sleepless.  She  stooped  and  gathered  some  poppies.  As 
they  entered  the  cottage,  they  found  all  in  great  distress, 
for  the  boy  seemed  past  hope  of  recovery.  Metanira, 
his  mother,  received  her  kindly,  and  the  goddess  stooped 
and  kissed  the  lips  of  the  sick  child.  Instantly  the  pale¬ 
ness  left  his  face,  and  healthy  vigor  returned  to  his  body. 
The  whole  family  were  delighted — that  is,  the  father, 
mother,  and  little  girl,  for  they  were  all;  they  had  no 
servants.  They  spread  the  table,  and  put  upon  it  curds 
and  cream,  apples,  and  honey  in  the  comb.  While  they 
ate,  Ceres  mingled  poppy  juice  in  the  milk  of  the  boy. 
When  night  came  and  all  was  still,  she  arose,  and  taking 
the  sleeping  boy,  moulded  his  limbs  with  her  hands,  and 
uttered  over  him  three  times  a  solemn  charm,  then  went 
and  laid  him  in  the  ashes.  His  mother,  who  had  been 
watching  what  her  guest  was  doing,  sprang  forward  with 
a  cry  and  snatched  the  child  from  the  fire.  Then  Ceres 
assumed  her  own  form,  and  a  divine  splendor  shone  all 
around.  While  they  were  overcome  with  astonishment, 
she  said,  “Mother,  you  have  been  cruel  in  your  fondness 


PROSERPINE 


55 


to  your  son.  I  would  have  made  him  immortal,  but  you 
have  frustrated  my  attempt.  Nevertheless,  he  shall  be 
great  and  useful.  He 'shall  teach  men  the  use  of  the 
plough,  and  the  rewards  which  labor  can  win  from  the 
cultivated  soil.”  So  saying,  she  wrapped  a  cloud  about 
her,  and  mounting  her  chariot  rode  away. 

Ceres  continued  her  search  for  her  daughter,  passing 
from  land  to  land,  and  across  seas  and  rivers,  till  at 
length  she  returned  to  Sicily,  whence  she  at  first  set  out, 
and  stood  by  the  banks  of  the  River  Cyane,  where  Pluto 
made  himself  a  passage  with  his  prize  to  his  own  do¬ 
minions.  The  river  nymph  would  have  told  the  goddess 
all  she  had  witnessed,  but  dared  not,  for  fear  of  Pluto; 
so  she  only  ventured  to  take  up  the  girdle  which  Proser¬ 
pine  had  dropped  in  her  flight,  and  waft  it  to  the  feet 
of  the  mother.  Ceres,  seeing  this,  was  no  longer  in 
doubt  of  her  loss,  but  she  did  not  yet  know  the  cause, 
and  laid  the  blame  on  the  innocent  land.  “Ungrateful 
soil,”  said  she,  “which  I  have  endowed  with  fertility 
and  clothed  with  herbage  and  nourishing  grain,  no  more 
shall  you  enjoy  my  favors.”  Then  the  cattle  died,  the 
plough  broke  in  the  furrow,  the  seed  failed  to  come  up ; 
there  was  too  much  sun,  there  was  too  much  rain ;  the 
birds  stole  the  seeds — thistles  and  brambles  were  the 
only  growth.  Seeing  this,  the  fountain  Arethusa  inter¬ 
ceded  for  the  land.  “Goddess,”  said  she,  “blame  not  the 
land ;  it  opened  unwillingly  to  yield  a  passage  to  your 
daughter.  I  can  tell  you  of  her  fate,  for  I  have  seen 
her.  This  is  not  my  native  country ;  I  came  hither  from 
Elis.  I  was  a  woodland  nymph,  and  delighted  in  the 
chase.  They  praised  my  beauty,  but  I  cared  nothing 
for  it,  and  rather  boasted  of  my  hunting  exploits.  One 
day  I  was  returning  from  the  wood,  heated  with  exer¬ 
cise,  when  I  came  to  a  stream  silently  flowing,  so  clear 
that  you  might  count  the  pebbles  on  the  bottom.  The 
willows  shaded  it,  and  the  grassy  bank  sloped  down  to 
the  water’s  edge.  I  approached,  I  touched  the  water 
with  my  foot.  I  stepped  in  knee-deep,  and  not  content 
with  that,  I  laid  my  garments  on  the  willows  and  went 
in.  While  I  sported  in  the  water,  I  heard  an  indistinct 
murmur  coming  up  as  out  of  the  depths  of  the  stream; 


56 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


and  made  haste  to  escape  to  the  nearest  bank.  The 
voice  said,  ‘Why  do  you  fly,  Arethusa?  I  am  Alpheus, 
the  god  of  this  stream.’  I  ran,  he  pursued;  he  was  not 
more  swift  than  I,  but  he  was  stronger,  and  gained  upon 
me,  as  my  strength  failed.  At  last,  exhausted,  I  cried 
for  help  to  Diana.  ‘Help  me,  goddess !  help  your  vo¬ 
tary  !’  The  goddess  heard,  and  wrapped  me  suddenly  in 
a  thick  cloud.  The  river  god  looked  now  this  way  and 
now  that,  and  twice  came  close  to  me,  but  could  not 
find  me.  ‘Arethusa !  Arethusa !’  he  cried.  Oh,  how  I 
trembled, — like  a  lamb  that  hears  the  wolf  growling  out¬ 
side  the  fold.  A  cold  sweat  came  over  me,  my  hair 
flowed  down  in  streams ;  where  my  foot  stood  there  was 
a  pool.  In  short,  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it  I 
became  a  fountain.  But  in  this  form  Alpheus  knew  me 
and  attempted  to  mingle  his  stream  with  mine.  Diana 
cleft  the  ground,  and  I,  endeavoring  to  escape  him, 
plunged  into  the  cavern,  and  through  the  bowels  of 
the  earth  came  out  here  in  Sicily.  While  I  passed 
through  the  lower  parts  of  the  earth,  I  saw  your  Proser¬ 
pine.  She  was  sad,  but  no  longer  showing  alarm  in  her 
countenance.  Her  look  was  such  as  became  a  queen — 
the  queen  of  Erebus;  the  powerful  bride  of  the  monarch 
of  the  realms  of  the  dead.” 

When  Ceres  heard  this,  she  stood  for  a  while  like  one 
stupefied;  then  turned  her  chariot  towards  heaven,  and 
hastened  to  present  herself  before  the  throne  of  Jove. 
She  told  the  story  of  her  bereavement,  and  implored 
Jupiter  to  interfere  to  procure  the  restitution  of  her 
daughter.  Jupiter  consented  on  one  condition,  namely, 
that  Proserpine  should  not  during  her  stay  in  the  lower 
world  have  taken  any  food;  otherwise,  the  Fates  for¬ 
bade  her  release.  Accordingly,  Mercury  was  sent,  ac¬ 
companied  by  Spring,  to  demand  Proserpine  of  Pluto. 
The  wily  monarch  consented ;  but,  alas !  the  maiden  had 
taken  a  pomegranate  which  Pluto  offered  her,  and  had 
sucked  the  sweet  pulp  from  a  few  of  the  seeds.  This 
was  enough  to  prevent  her  complete  release ;  but  a  com¬ 
promise  was  made,  by  which  she  was  to  pass  half  the 
time  with  her  mother,  and  the  rest  with  her  husband 
Pluto. 


PROSERPINE 


57 


Ceres  allowed  herself  to  be  pacified  with  this  arrange¬ 
ment,  and  restored  the  earth  to  her  favor.  Now  she 
remembered  Celeus  and  his  family,  and  her  promise  to 
his  infant  son  Triptolemus.  When  the  boy  grew  up, 
she  taught  him  the  use  of  the  plough,  and  how  to  sow 
the  seed.  She  took  him  in  her  chariot,  drawn  by  winged 
dragons,  through  all  the  countries  of  the  earth,  imparting 
to  mankind  valuable  grains,  and  the  knowledge  of  agri¬ 
culture.  After  his  return,  Triptolemus  built  a  magnifi¬ 
cent  temple  to  Ceres  in  Eleusis,  and  established  the 
worship  of  the  goddess,  under  the  name  of  the  Eleu- 
sinian  mysteries,  which,  in  the  splendor  and  solemnity 
of  their  observance,  surpassed  all  other  religious  cele¬ 
brations  among  the  Greeks. 

There  can  be  little  doubt  of  this  story  of  Ceres  and 
Proserpine  being  an  allegory.  Proserpine  signifies  the 
seed-corn  which  when  cast  into  the  ground  lies  there 
concealed — that  is,  she  is  carried  off  by  the  god  of  the 
underworld.  It  reappears — that  is,  Proserpine  is  re¬ 
stored  to  her  mother.  Spring  leads  her  back  to  the  light 
of  day. 

Milton  alludes  to  the  story  of  Proserpine  in  “Paradise 
Lost/’  Book  IV. : 

“.  .  .  Not  that  fair  field 
Of  Enna  where  Proserpine  gathering  flowers, 

Herself  a  fairer  flower,  by  gloomy  Dis 
Was  gathered,  which  cost  Ceres  all  that  pain 
To  seek  her  through  the  world, — 

.  .  .  might  with  this  Paradise 
Of  Eden  strive.” 

Hood,  in  his  “Ode  to  Melancholy,”  uses  the  same 
allusion  very  beautifully: 

“Forgive,  if  somewhile  I  forget, 

In  woe  to  come  the  present  bliss; 

As  frighted  Proserpine  let  fall 
Her  flowers  at  the  sight  of  Dis.” 

The  River  Alpheus  does  in  fact  disappear  under¬ 
ground,  in  part  of  its  course,  finding  its  way  through 


58 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


subterranean  channels  till  it  again  appears  on  the  sur¬ 
face.  It  was  said  that  the  Sicilian  fountain  Arethusa 
was  the  same  stream,  which,  after  passing  under  the 
sea,  came  up  again  in  Sicily.  Hence  the  story  ran  that 
a  cup  thrown  into  the  Alpheus  appeared  again  in  Are¬ 
thusa.  It  is  this  fable  of  the  underground  course  of 
Alpheus  that  Coleridge  alludes  to  in  his  poem  of  “Kubla 
Khan” : 

“In  Xanadu  did  Kubla  Khan 

A  stately  pleasure-dome  decree, 

Where  Alph,  the  sacred  river,  ran 
Through  caverns  measureless  to  man, 

Down  to  a  sunless  sea.” 

In  one  of  Moore’s  juvenile  poems  he  thus  alludes  to 
the  same  story,  and  to  the  practice  of  throwing  garlands 
or  other  light  objects  on  his  stream  to  be  carried  down¬ 
ward  by  it,  and  afterwards  reproduced  at  its  emerging: 

“O  my  beloved,  how  divinely  sweet 
Is  the  pure  joy  when  kindred  spirits  meet! 

Like  him  the  river  god,  whose  waters  flow, 

With  love  their  only  light,  through  caves  below, 

Wafting  in  triumph  all  the  flowery  braids 
And  festal  rings,  with  which  Olympic  maids 
Have  decked  his  current,  as  an  offering  meet 
To  lay  at  Arethusa’s  shining  feet. 

Think,  when  he  meets  at  last  his  fountain  bride, 

What  perfect  love  must  thrill  the  blended  tide! 

Each  lost  in  each,  till  mingling  into  one, 

Their  lot  the  same  for  shadow  or  for  sun, 

A  type  of  true  love,  to  the  deep  they  run.” 

The  following  extract  from  Moore’s  “Rhymes  on  the 
Road”  gives  an  account  of  a  celebrated  picture  by  Al- 
bano,  at  Milan,  called  a  Dance  of  Loves: 

“’Tis  for  the  theft  of  Enna’s  flower  from  earth 
These  urchins  celebrate  their  dance  of  mirth, 

Round  the  green  tree,  like  fays  upon  a  heath ; — 

Those  that  are  nearest  linked  in  order  bright, 

Cheek  after  cheek,  like  rosebuds  in  a  wreath; 

And  those  more  distant  showing  from  beneath 
The  others’  wings  their  little  eyes  of  light. 

While  see!  among  the  clouds,  their  eldest  brother, 

But  just  flown  up,  tells  with  a  smile  of  bliss, 

This  prank  of  Pluto  to  his  charmed  mother. 

Who  turns  to  greet  the  tidings  with  a  kiss.” 


GLAUCUS  AND  SCYLLA 


59 


GLAUCUS  AND  SCYLLA 

Glaucus  was  a  fisherman.  One  day  he  had  drawn  his 
nets  to  land,  and  had  taken  a  great  many  fishes  of  vari¬ 
ous  kinds.  So  he  emptied  his  net,  and  proceeded  to 
sort  the  fishes  on  the  grass.  The  place  where  he  stood 
was  a  beautiful  island  in  the  river,  a  solitary  spot,  unin¬ 
habited,  and  not  used  for  pasturage  of  cattle,  nor  ever 
visited  by  any  but  himself.  On  a  sudden,  the  fishes, 
which  had  been  laid  on  the  grass,  began  to  revive  and 
move  their  fins  as  if  they  were  in  the  water;  and  while 
he  looked  on  astonished,  they  one  and  all  moved  off  to 
the  water,  plunged  in,  and  swam  away.  He  did  not 
know  what  to  make  of  this,  whether  some  god  had  done 
it  or  some  secret  power  in  the  herbage.  “What  herb 
has  such  a  power  ?”  he  exclaimed ;  and  gathering  some 
of  it,  he  tasted  it.  Scarce  had  the  juices  of  the  plant 
reached  his  palate  when  he  found  himself  agitated  with 
a  longing  desire  for  the  water.  He  could  no  longer 
restrain  himself,  but  bidding  farewell  to  earth,  he 
plunged  into  the  stream.  The  gods  of  the  water  re¬ 
ceived  him  graciously,  and  admitted  him  to  the  honor 
of  their  society.  They  obtained  the  consent  of  Oceanus 
and  Tethys,  the  sovereigns  of  the  sea,  that  all  that  was 
mortal  in  him  should  be  washed  away.  A  hundred 
rivers  poured  their  waters  over  him.  Then  he  lost  all 
sense  of  his  former  nature  and  all  consciousness.  When 
he  recovered,  he  found  himself  changed  in  form  and 
mind.  His  hair  was  sea-green,  and  trailed  behind  him 
on  the  water;  his  shoulders  grew  broad,  and  what  had 
been  thighs  and  legs  assumed  the  form  of  a  fish’s  tail. 
The  sea-gods  complimented  him  on  the  change  of  his 
appearance,  and  he  fancied  himself  rather  a  good-looking 
personage. 

One  day  Glaucus  saw  the  beautiful  maiden  Scylla,  the 
favorite  of  the  water-nymphs,  rambling  on  the  shore, 
and  when  she  had  found  a  sheltered  nook,  laving  her 
limbs  in  the  clear  water.  He  fell  in  love  with  her,  and 
showing  himself  on  the  surface,  spoke  to  her,  saying 
such  things  as  he  thought  most  likely  to  win  her  to  stay ; 
for  she  turned  to  run  immediately  on  the  sight  of  him, 


60 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


and  ran  till  she  had  gained  a  cliff  overlooking  the  sea. 
Here  she  stopped  and  turned  round  to  see  whether  it  was 
a  god  or  a  sea  animal,  and  observed  with  wonder  his 
shape  and  color.  Glaucus  partly  emerging  from  the 
water,  and  supporting  himself  against  a  rock,  said, 
“Maiden,  I  am  no  monster,  nor  a  sea  animal,  but  a  god ; 
and  neither  Proteus  nor  Triton  ranks  higher  than  I. 
Once  I  was  a  mortal,  and  followed  the  sea  for  a  living; 
but  now  I  belong  wholly  to  it.”  Then  he  told  the  story 
of  his  metamorphosis,  and  how  he  had  been  promoted  to 
his  present  dignity,  and  added,  “But  what  avails  all  this 
if  it  fails  to  move  your  heart?”  He  was  going  on  in 
this  strain,  but  Scylla  turned  and  hastened  away. 

Glaucus  was  in  despair,  but  it  occurred  to  him  to  con¬ 
sult  the  enchantress  Circe.  Accordingly  he  repaired  to 
her  island — the  same  where  afterwards  Ulysses  landed, 
as  we  shall  see  in  one  of  our  later  stories.  After  mutual 
salutations,  he  said,  “Goddess,  I  entreat  your  pity;  you 
alone  can  relieve  the  pain  I  suffer.  The  power  of  herbs 
I  know  as  well  as  any  one,  for  it  is  to  them  I  owe  my 
change  of  form.  I  love  Scylla.  I  am  ashamed  to  tell 
you  how  I  have  sued  and  promised  to  her,  and  how 
scornfully  she  has  treated  me.  I  beseech  you  to  use 
your  incantations,  or  potent  herbs,  if  they  are  more  pre¬ 
vailing,  not  to  cure  me  of  my  love, — for  that  I  do  not 
wish, — but  to  make  her  share  it  and  yield  me  a  like  re¬ 
turn.”  To  which  Circe  replied,  for  she  was  not  insensible 
to  the  attractions  of  the  sea-green  deity,  “You  had  better 
pursue  a  willing  object;  you  are  worthy  to  be  sought, 
instead  of  having  to  seek  in  vain.  Be  not  diffident,  know 
your  own  worth.  I  protest  to  you  that  even  I,  goddess 
though  I  be,  and  learned  in  the  virtues  of  plants  and 
spells,  should  not  know  how  to  refuse  you.  If  she 
scorns  you  scorn  her;  meet  one  who  is  ready  to  meet 
you  half  way,  and  thus  make  a  due  return  to  both  at 
once.”  To  these  words  Glaucus  replied,  “Sooner  shall 
trees  grow  at  the  bottom  of  the  ocean,  and  sea-weed  on 
the  top  of  the  mountains,  than  I  will  cease  to  love  Scylla, 
and  her  alone.” 

The  goddess  was  indignant,  but  she  could  not  punish 
him,  neither  did  she  wish  to  do  so,  for  she  liked  him  too 


GLAUCUS  AND  SCYLLA 


61 


I 


well ;  so  she  turned  all  her  wrath  against  her  rival,  poor 
Scylla.  She  took  plants  of  poisonous  powers  and 
mixed  them  together,  with  incantations  and  charms. 
Then  she  passed  through  the  crowd  of  gambolling 
beasts,  the  victims  of  her  art,  and  proceeded  to  the  coast 
of  Sicily,  where  Scylla  lived.  There  was  a  little  bay  on 
the  shore  to  which  Scylla  used  to  resort,  in  the  heat  of 
the  day,  to  breathe  the  air  of  the  sea,  and  to  bathe  in  its 
waters.  Here  the  goddess  poured  her  poisonous  mix¬ 
ture,  and  muttered  over  it  incantations  of  mighty  power. 
Scylla  came  as  usual  and  plunged  into  the  water  up  to 
her  waist.  What  was  her  horror  to  perceive  a  brood  of 
serpents  and  barking  monsters  surrounding  her!  At 
first  she  could  not  imagine  they  were  a  part  of  herself, 
and  tried  to  run  from  them,  and  to  drive  them  away;  but 
as  she  ran  she  carried  them  with  her,  and  when  she  tried 
to  touch  her  limbs,  she  found  her  hands  touch  only  the 
yawning  jaws  of  monsters.  Scylla  remained  rooted  to 
the  spot.  Her  temper  grew  as  ugly  as  her  form,  and  she 
took  pleasure  in  devouring  hapless  mariners  who  came 
within  her  grasp.  Thus  she  destroyed  six  of  the  com¬ 
panions  of  Ulysses,  and  tried  to  wreck  the  ships  of 
.Ttneas,  till  at  last  she  was  turned  into  a  rock,  and  as  such 
still  continues  to  be  a  terror  to  mariners. 

Keats,  in  his  “Endymion,”  has  given  a  new  version  of 
the  ending  of  “Glaucus  and  Scylla/’  Glaucus  consents 
to  Circe’s  blandishments,  till  he  by  chance  is  witness  to 
her  transactions  with  her  beasts.1  Disgusted  with  her 
treachery  and  cruelty,  he  tries  to  escape  from  her,  but 
is  taken  and  brought  back,  when  with  reproaches  she 
banishes  him,  sentencing  him  to  pass  a  thousand  years 
in  decrepitude  and  pain.  He  returns  to  the  sea,  and 
there  finds  the  body  of  Scylla,  whom  the  goddess  has 
not  transformed  but  drowned.  Glaucus  learns  that  his 
destiny  is  that,  if  he  passes  his  thousand  years  in 
collecting  all  the  bodies  of  drowned  lovers,  a  youth  be¬ 
loved  of  the  gods  will  appear  and  help  him.  Endymion 
fulfils  this  prophecy,  and  aids  in  restoring  Glaucus  to 
youth,  and  Scylla  and  all  the  drowned  lovers  to  life. 

1  See  page  241. 


62 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


The  following  is  Glaucus’s  account  of  his  feelings 
after  his  “sea-change” : 

“I  plunged  for  life  or  death.  To  interknit 
One’s  senses  with  so  dense  a  breathing  stuff 
Might  seem  a  work  of  pain;  so  not  enough 
Can  I  admire  how  crystal-smooth  it  felt, 

And  buoyant  round  my  limbs.  At  first  I  dwelt 
Whole  days  and  days  in  sheer  astonishment; 

Forgetful  utterly  of  self-intent, 

Moving  but  with  the  mighty  ebb  and  flow. 

Then  like  a  new-fledged  bird  that  first  doth  show 
His  spreaded  feathers  to  the  morrow  chill, 

I  tried  in  fear  the  pinions  of  my  will. 

’Twas  freedom !  and  at  once  I  visited 

The  ceaseless  wonders  of  this  ocean-bed,”  etc. 

— Keats. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

PYGMALION — DRYOPE — VENUS  AND  ADONIS — APOLLO  AND 

HYACINTHUS 

Pygmalion  saw  so  much  to  blame  in  women  that 
he  came  at  last  to  abhor  the  sex,  and  resolved  to  live 
unmarried.  He  was  a  sculptor,  and  had  made  with 
wonderful  skill  a  statue  of  ivory,  so  beautiful  that  no 
living  woman  came  anywhere  near  it.  It  was  indeed 
the  perfect  semblance  of  a  maiden  that  seemed  to  be 
alive,  and  only  prevented  from  moving  by  modesty. 
His  art  was  so  perfect  that  it  concealed  itself  and  its 
product  looked  like  the  workmanship  of  nature.  Pyg¬ 
malion  admired  his  own  work,  and  at  last  fell  in  love 
with  the  counterfeit  creation.  Oftentimes  he  laid  his 
hand  upon  it  as  if  to  assure  himself  whether  it  were 
living  or  not,  and  could  not  even  then  believe  that  it 
was  only  ivory.  He  caressed  it,  and  gave  it  presents 
such  as  young  girls  love, — bright  shells  and  polished 
Stones,  little  birds  and  flowers  of  various  hues,  beads 
and  amber.  He  put  raiment  on  its  limbs,  and  jewels  on 
its  fingers,  and  a  necklace  about  its  neck.  To  the  ears 
he  hung  earrings  and  strings  of  pearls  upon  the  breast. 
Her  dress  became  her,  and  she  looked  not  less  charming 


PYGMALION 


63 


than  when  unattired.  He  laid  her  on  a  couch  spread 
with  cloths  of  Tyrian  dye,  and  called  her  his  wife,  and 
put  her  head  upon  a  pillow  of  the  softest  feathers,  as  if 
she  could  enjoy  their  softness. 

The  festival  of  Venus  was  at  hand — a  festival  cele¬ 
brated  with  great  pomp  at  Cyprus.  Victims  were 
offered,  the  altars  smoked,  and  the  odor  of  incense  filled 
the  air.  When  Pygmalion  had  performed  his  part  in  the 
solemnities,  he  stood  before  the  altar  and  timidly  said, 
“Ye  gods,  who  can  do  all  things,  give  me,  I  pray  you, 
for  my  wife” — he  dared  not  say  “my  ivory  virgin,”  but 
said  instead — “one  like  my  ivory  virgin.”  Venus,  who 
was  present  at  the  festival,  heard  him  and  knew  the 
thought  he  would  have  uttered;  and  as  an  omen  of  her 
favor,  caused  the  flame  on  the  altar  to  shoot  up  thrice 
in  a  fiery  point  into  the  air.  When  he  returned  home, 
he  went  to  see  his  statue,  and  leaning  over  the  couch, 
gave  a  kiss  to  the  mouth.  It  seemed  to  be  warm.  He 
pressed  its  lips  again,  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  limbs; 
the  ivory  felt  soft  to  his  touch  and  yielded  to  his  fingers 
like  the  wax  of  Hymettus.  While  he  stands  astonished 
and  glad,  though  doubting,  and  fears  he  may  be  mis¬ 
taken,  again  and  again  with  a  lover’s  ardor  he  touches 
the  object  of  his  hopes.  It  was  indeed  alive!  The  veins 
when  pressed  yielded  to  the  finger  and  again  resumed 
their  roundness.  Then  at  last  the  votary  of  Venus 
found  words  to  thank  the  goddess,  and  pressed  his  lips 
upon  lips  as  real  as  his  own.  The  virgin  felt  the  kisses 
and  blushed,  and  opening  her  timid  eyes  to  the  light, 
fixed  them  at  the  same  moment  on  her  lover.  Venus 
blessed  the  nuptials  she  had  formed,  and  from  this  union 
Paphos  was  born,  from  whom  the  city,  sacred  to  Venus, 
received  its  name. 

Schiller,  in  his  poem  the  “Ideals,”  applies  this  tale  of 
Pygmalion  to  the  love  of  nature  in  a  youthful  heart. 
The  following  translation  is  furnished  by  a  friend: 

“As  once  with  prayers  in  passion  flowing, 

Pygmalion  embraced  the  stone, 

Till  from  the  frozen  marble  glowing, 

The  light  of  feeling  o’er  him  shone, 


64 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


So  did  I  clasp  with  young  devotion 
Bright  nature  to  a  poet’s  heart; 

Till  breath  and  warmth  and  vital  motion 
Seemed  through  the  statue  form  to  dart. 

“And  then,  in  all  my  ardor  sharing, 

The  silent  form  expression  found; 

Returned  my  kiss  of  youthful  daring, 

And  understood  my  heart's  quick  sound. 

Then  lived  for  me  the  bright  creation, 

The  silver  rill  with  song  was  rife; 

The  trees,  the  roses  shared  sensation, 

An  echo  of  my  boundless  life/' 

— 5-.  G.  B. 


DRYOPE 

Dryope  and  Iole  were  sisters.  The  former  was  the 
wife  of  Andraemon,  beloved  by  her  husband,  and  happy 
in  the  birth  of  her  first  child.  One  day  the  sisters 
strolled  to  the  bank  of  a  stream  that  sloped  gradually 
down  to  the  water’s  edge,  while  the  upland  was  over¬ 
grown  with  myrtles.  They  were  intending  to  gather 
flowers  for  forming  garlands  for  the  altars  of  the 
nymphs,  and  Dryope  carried  her  child  at  her  bosom, 
precious  burden,  and  nursed  him  as  she  walked.  Near 
the  water  grew  a  lotus  plant,  full  of  purple  flowers. 
Dryope  gathered  some  and  offered  them  to  the  baby,  and 
Iole  was  about  to  do  the  same,  when  she  perceived  blood 
dropping  from  the  places  where  her  sister  had  broken 
them  off  the  stem.  The  plant  was  no  other  than  the 
nymph  Lotis,  who,  running  from  a  base  pursuer,  had 
been  changed  into  this  form.  This  they  learned  from 
the  country  people  when  it  was  too  late. 

Dryope,  horror-struck  when  she  perceived  what  she 
had  done,  would  gladly  have  hastened  from  the  spot, 
but  found  her  feet  rooted  to  the  ground.  She  tried  to 
pull  them  away,  but  moved  nothing  but  her  upper  limbs. 
The  woodiness  crept  upward,  and  by  degrees  invested 
her  body.  In  anguish  she  attempted  to  tear  her  hair,  but 
found  her  hands  filled  with  leaves.  The  infant  felt  his 
mother’s  bosom  begin  to  harden,  and  the  milk  cease  to 
flow.  Iole  looked  on  at  the  sad  fate  of  her  sister,  and 
could  render  no  assistance.  She  embraced  the  growing 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS 


65 


trunk,  as  if  she  would  hold  back  the  advancing  wood, 
and  would  gladly  have  been  enveloped  in  the  same  bark. 
At  this  moment  Andrsemon,  the  husband  of  Dryope, 
with  her  father,  approached;  and  when  they  asked  for 
Dryope,  Iole  pointed  them  to  the  new-formed  lotus. 
They  embraced  the  trunk  of  the  yet  warm  tree,  and 
showered  their  kisses  on  its  leaves. 

Now  there  was  nothing  left  of  Dryope  but  her  face. 
Her  tears  still  flowed  and  fell  on  her  leaves,  and  while 
she  could  she  spoke.  “I  am  not  guilty.  I  deserve  not 
this  fate.  I  have  injured  no  one.  If  I  speak  falsely, 
may  my  foliage  perish  with  drought  and  my  trunk  be 
cut  down  and  burned.  Take  this  infant  and  give  it  to  a 
nurse.  Let  it  often  be  brought  and  nursed  under  my 
branches,  and  play  in  my  shade;  and  when  he  is  old 
enough  to  talk,  let  him  be  taught  to  call  me  mother,  and 
to  say  with  sadness,  ‘My  mother  lies  hid  under  this  bark/ 
But  bid  him  be  careful  of  river  banks,  and  beware  how 
he  plucks  flowers,  remembering  that  every  bush  he  sees 
may  be  a  goddess  in  disguise.  Farewell,  dear  husband, 
and  sister,  and  father.  If  you  retain  any  love  for  me, 
let  not  the  axe  wound  me,  nor  the  flocks  bite  and  tear 
my  branches.  Since  I  cannot  stoop  to  you,  climb  up 
hither  and  kiss  me;  and  while  my  lips  continue  to  feel, 
lift  up  my  child  that  I  may  kiss  him.  I  can  speak  no 
more,  for  already  the  bark  advances  up  my  neck,  and 
will  soon  shoot  over  me.  You  need  not  close  my  eyes, 
the  bark  will  close  them  without  your  aid.”  Then  the 
lips  ceased  to  move,  and  life  was  extinct;  but  the 
branches  retained  for  some  time  longer  the  vital  heat. 

Keats,  in  “Endymion,”  alludes  to  Dryope  thus : 

“She  took  a  lute  from  which  there  pulsing  came 
A  lively  prelude,  fashioning  the  way 
In  which  her  voice  should  wander.  ’T  was  a  lay 
More  subtle-cadenced,  more  forest-wild 
Than  Dryope’ s  lone  lulling  of  her  child;”  etc. 

VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

Venus,  playing  one  day  with  her  boy  Cupid,  wounded 
her  bosom  with  one  of  his  arrows.  She  pushed  him 


66 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


away,  but  the  wound  was  deeper  than  she  thought.  Be¬ 
fore  it  healed  she  beheld  Adonis,  and  was  captivated  with 
him.  She  no  longer  took  any  interest  in  her  favor¬ 
ite  resorts — Paphos,  and  Cnidos,  and  Amathos,  rich  in 
metals.  She  absented  herself  even  from  heaven,  for 
Adonis  was  dearer  to  her  than  heaven.  Him  she 
followed  and  bore  him  company.  She  who  used  to 
love  to  recline  in  the  shade,  with  no  care  but  to  culti¬ 
vate  her  charms,  now  rambles  through  the  woods  and 
over  the  hills,  dressed  like  the  huntress  Diana ;  and  calls 
her  dogs,  and  chases  hares  and  stags,  or  other  game 
that  it  is  safe  to  hunt,  but  keeps  clear  of  the  wolves  and 
bears,  reeking  with  the  slaughter  of  the  herd.  She 
charged  Adonis,  too,  to  beware  of  such  dangerous  ani¬ 
mals.  “Be  brave  towards  the  timid,”  said  she ;  “courage 
against  the  courageous  is  not  safe.  Beware  how  you 
expose  yourself  to  danger  and  put  my  happiness  to  risk. 
Attack  not  the  beasts  that  Nature  has  armed  with  weap¬ 
ons.  I  do  not  value  your  glory  so  high  as  to  consent  to 
purchase  it  by  such  exposure.  Your  youth,  and  the 
beauty  that  charms  Venus,  will  not  touch  the  hearts  of 
lions  and  bristly  boars.  Think  of  their  terrible  claws 
and  prodigious  strength !  I  hate  the  whole  race  of  them. 
Do  you  ask  me  why?”  Then  she  told  him  the  story  of 
Atalanta  and  Hippomenes,  who  were  changed  into  lions 
for  their  ingratitude  to  her. 

Having  given  him  this  warning,  she  mounted  her 
chariot  drawn  by  swans,  and  drove  away  through  the 
air.  But  Adonis  was  too  noble  to  heed  such  counsels. 
The  dogs  had  roused  a  wild  boar  from  his  lair,  and  the 
youth  threw  his  spear  and  wounded  the  animal  with  a 
sidelong  stroke.  The  beast  drew  out  the  weapon  with 
his  jaws,  and  rushed  after  Adonis,  who  turned  and  ran; 
but  the  boar  overtook  him,  and  buried  his  tusks  in  his 
side,  and  stretched  him  dying  upon  the  plain. 

V enus,  in  her  swan-drawn  chariot,  had  not  yet 
reached  Cyprus,  when  she  heard  coming  up  through  mid¬ 
air  the  groans  of  her  beloved,  and  turned  her  white¬ 
winged  coursers  back  to  earth.  As  she  drew  near  and 
saw  from  on  high  his  lifeless  body  bathed  in  blood,  she 
alighted  and,  bending  over  it,  beat  her  breast  and  tore 


APOLLO  AND  HYACINTHUS 


67 


her  hair.  Reproaching  the  Fates,  she  said,  “Yet  theirs 
shall  be  but  a  partial  triumph;  memorials  of  my 
grief  shall  endure,  and  the  spectacle  of  your  death,  my 
Adonis,  and  of  my  lamentations  shall  be  annually  re¬ 
newed.  Your  blood  shall  be  changed  into  a  flower;  that 
consolation  none  can  envy  me.”  Thus  speaking,  she 
sprinkled  nectar  on  the  blood;  and  as  they  mingled, 
bubbles  rose  as  in  a  pool  on  which  raindrops  fall,  and 
in  an  hour’s  time  there  sprang  up  a  flower  of  bloody  hue 
like  that  of  the  pomegranate.  But  it  is  short-lived.  It 
is  said  the  wind  blows  the  blossoms  open,  and  after¬ 
wards  blows  the  petals  away ;  so  it  is  called  Anemone,  or 
Wind  Flower,  from  the  cause  which  assists  equally  in  its 
production  and  its  decay. 

Milton  alludes  to  the  story  of  Venus  and  Adonis  in 
his  “Comus” : 

“Beds  of  hyacinth  and  roses 
Where  young  Adonis  oft  reposes, 

Waxing  well  of  his  deep  wound 
In  slumber  soft,  and  on  the  ground 
Sadly  sits  th’  Assyrian  queen;”  etc. 


APOLLO  AND  HYACINTHUS 

Apollo  was  passionately  fond  of  a  youth  named  Hy- 
acinthus.  He  accompanied  him  in  his  sports,  carried 
the  nets  when  he  went  fishing,  led  the  dogs  when  he 
went  to  hunt,  followed  him  in  his  excursions  in  the 
mountains,  and  neglected  for  him  his  lyre  and  his  ar¬ 
rows.  One  day  they  played  a  game  of  quoits  together,' 
and  Apollo,  heaving  aloft  the  discus,  with  strength 
mingled  with  skill,  sent  it  high  and  far.  Hyacinthus 
watched  it  as  it  flew,  and  excited  with  the  sport  ran 
forward  to  seize  it,  eager  to  make  his  throw,  when  the 
quoit  bounded  from  the  earth  and  struck  him  in  the 
forehead.  He  fainted  and  fell.  The  god,  as  pale  as 
himself,  raised  him  and  tried  all  his  art  to  stanch  the 
wound  and  retain  the  flitting  life,  but  all  in  vain;  the 
hurt  was  past  the  power  of  medicine.  As  when  one  has 
broken  the  stem  of  a  lily  in  the  garden  it  hangs  its  head 


68 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


and  turns  its  flowers  to  the  earth,  so  the  head  of  the 
dying  boy,  as  if  too  heavy  for  his  neck,  fell  over  on  his 
shoulder.  “Thou  diest,  Hyacinth/’  so  spoke  Phoebus, 
“robbed  of  thy  youth  by  me.  Thine  is  the  suffering, 
mine  the  crime.  Would  that  I  could  die  for  thee!  But 
since  that  may  not  be,  thou  shalt  live  with  me  in  memory 
and  in  song.  My  lyre  shall  celebrate  thee,  my  song  shall 
tell  thy  fate,  and  thou  shalt  become  a  flower  inscribed 
with  my  regrets.”  While  Apollo  spoke,  behold  the 
blood  which  had  flowed  on  the  ground  and  stained  the 
herbage  ceased  to  be  blood;  but  a  flower  of  hue  more 
beautiful  than  the  Tyrian  sprang  up,  resembling  the  lily, 
if  it  were  not  that  this  is  purple  and  that  silvery  white.1 
And  this  was  not  enough  for  Phoebus;  but  to  confer 
still  greater  honor,  he  marked  the  petals  with  his  sorrow, 
and  inscribed  “Ah !  ah !”  upon  them  as  we  see  to  this 
day.  The  flower  bears  the  name  of  Hyacinthus,  and 
with  every  returning  spring  revives  the  memory  of  his 
fate. 

It  was  said  that  Zephyrus  (the  West  wind),  who  was 
also  fond  of  Hyacinthus  and  jealous  of  his  preference 
of  Apollo,  blew  the  quoit  out  of  its  course  to  make  it 
strike  Hyacinthus.  Keats  alludes  to  this  in  his  “Endym- 
ion,”  where  he  describes  the  lookers-on  at  the  game 
of  quoits: 

“Or  they  might  watch  the  quoit-pitchers,  intent 
On  either  side,  pitying  the  sad  death 
Of  Hyacinthus,  when  the  cruel  breath 
Of  Zephyr  slew  him;  Zephyr  penitent, 

Who  now  ere  Phoebus  mounts  the  firmament, 

Fondles  the  flower  amid  the  sobbing  rain” 

An  allusion  to  Hyacinthus  will  also  be  recognized 
in  Milton’s  “Lycidas” : 

“Like  to  that  sanguine  flower  inscribed  with  woe.” 

1  It  is  evidently  not  our  modern  hyacinth  that  is  here  described.  It  is 
perhaps  some  species  of  iris,  or  perhaps  of  larkspur  or  of  pansy. 


CEYX  AND  HALCYONE 


69 


CHAPTER  IX 

CEYX  AND  HALCYONE:  OR,  THE  HALCYON  BIRDS 

Ceyx  was  king  of  Thessaly,  where  he  reigned  in  peace, 
without  violence  or  wrong.  He  was  son  of  Hesperus, 
the  Day-star,  and  the  glow  of  his  beauty  reminded  one 
of  his  father.  Halcyone,  the  daughter  of  ^Eolus,  was 
his  wife,  and  devotedly  attached  to  him.  Now  Ceyx  was 
in  deep  affliction  for  the  loss  of  his  brother,  and  direful 
prodigies  following  his  brother’s  death  made  him  feel  as 
if  the  gods  were  hostile  to  him.  He  thought  best,  there¬ 
fore,  to  make  a  voyage  to  Carlos  in  Ionia,  to  consult  the 
oracle  of  Apollo.  But  as  soon  as  he  disclosed  his  inten¬ 
tion  to  his  wife  Halcyone,  a  shudder  ran  through  her 
frame,  and  her  face  grew  deadly  pale.  “What  fault  of 
mine,  dearest  husband,  has  turned  your  affection  from 
me?  Where  is  that  love  of  me  that  used  to  be  uppermost 
in  your  thoughts  ?  Have  you  learned  to  feel  easy  in  the 
absence  of  Halcyone?  Would  you  rather  have  me 
away?”  She  also  endeavored  to  discourage  him,  by  de¬ 
scribing  the  violence  of  the  winds,  which  she  had  known 
familiarly  when  she  lived  at  home  in  her  father’s 
house, — ^Eolus  being  the  god  of  the  winds,  and  having 
as  much  as  he  could  do  to  restrain  them.  “They  rush 
together,”  said  she,  “with  such  fury  that  fire  flashes 
from  the  conflict.  But  if  you  must  go,”  she  added, 
“dear  husband,  let  me  go  with  you,  otherwise  I  shall 
suffer  not  only  the  real  evils  which  you  must  encounter, 
but  those  also  which  my  fears  suggest.” 

These  words  weighed  heavily  on  the  mind  of  King 
Ceyx,  and  it  was  no  less  his  own  wish  than  hers  to 
take  her  with  him,  but  he  could  not  bear  to  expose  her 
to  the  dangers  of  the  sea.  He  answered,  therefore,  con¬ 
soling  her  as  well  as  he  could,  and  finished  with  these 
words:  “I  promise,  by  the  rays  of  my  father  the  Day- 
star,  that  if  fate  permits  I  will  return  before  the  moon 
shall  have  twice  rounded  her  orb.”  When  he  had  thus 
spoken,  he  ordered  the  vessel  to  be  drawn  out  of  the 


70 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


shiphouse,  and  the  oars  and  sails  to  be  put  aboard. 
When  Halcyone  saw  these  preparations  she  shuddered, 
as  if  with  a  presentiment  of  evil.  With  tears  and  sobs 
she  said  farewell,  and  then  fell  senseless  to  the  ground. 

Ceyx  would  still  have  lingered,  but  now  the  young 
men  grasped  their  oars  and  pulled  vigorously  through 
the  waves,  with  long  and  measured  strokes.  Halcyone 
raised  her  streaming  eyes,  and  saw  her  husband  stand¬ 
ing  on  the  deck,  waving  his  hand  to  her.  She  answered 
his  signal  till  the  vessel  had  receded  so  far  that  she 
could  no  longer  distinguish  his  form  from  the  rest. 
When  the  vessel  itself  could  no  more  be  seen,  she 
strained  her  eyes  to  catch  the  last  glimmer  of  the  sail, 
till  that  too  disappeared.  Then,  retiring  to  her  chamber, 
she  threw  herself  on  her  solitary  couch. 

Meanwhile  they  glide  out  of  the  harbor,  and  the 
breeze  plays  among  the  ropes.  The  seamen  draw  in 
their  oars,  and  hoist  their  sails.  When  half  or  less  of 
their  course  was  passed,  as  night  drew  on,  the  sea  be¬ 
gan  to  whiten  with  swelling  waves,  and  the  east  wind 
to  blow  a  gale.  The  master  gave  the  word  to  take  in 
sail,  but  the  storm  forbade  obedience,  for  such  is  the 
roar  of  the  winds  and  waves  his  orders  are  unheard. 
The  men,  of  their  own  accord,  busy  themselves  to  se¬ 
cure  the  oars,  to  strengthen  the  ship,  to  reef  the  sail. 
While  they  thus  do  what  to  each  one  seems  best,  the 
storm  increases.  The  shouting  of  the  men,  the  rattling 
of  the  shrouds,  and  the  dashing  of  the  waves,  mingle 
with  the  roar  of  the  thunder.  The  swelling  sea  seems 
lifted  up  to  the  heavens,  to  scatter  its  foam  among  the 
clouds;  then  sinking  away  to  the  bottom  assumes  the 
color  of  the  shoal — a  Stygian  blackness. 

The  vessel  shares  all  these  changes.  It  seems  like 
a  wild  beast  that  rushes  on  the  spears  of  the  hunters. 
Rain  falls  in  torrents,  as  if  the  skies  were  coming  down 
to  unite  with  the  sea.  When  the  lightning  ceases  for 
a  moment,  the  night  seems  to  add  its  own  darkness  to 
that  of  the  storm;  then  comes  the  flash,  rending  the 
darkness  asunder,  and  lighting  up  all  with  a  glare.  Skill 
fails,  courage  sinks,  and  death  seems  to  come  on  every 
wave.  The  men  are  stupefied  with  terror.  The  thought 


CEYX  AND  HALCYONE 


71 


of  parents,  and  kindred,  and  pledges  left  at  home,  comes 
over  their  minds.  Ceyx  thinks  of  Halcyone.  No  name 
but  hers  is  on  his  lips,  and  while  he  yearns  for  her, 
he  yet  rejoices  in  her  absence.  Presently  the  mast  is 
shattered  by  a  stroke  of  lightning,  the  rudder  broken, 
and  the  triumphant  surge  curling  over  looks  down  upon 
the  wreck,  then  falls,  and  crushes  it  to  fragments.  Some 
of  the  seamen,  stunned  by  the  stroke,  sink,  and  rise  no 
more;  others  cling  to  fragments  of  the  wreck.  Ceyx, 
with  the  hand  that  used  to  grasp  the  sceptre,  holds  fast 
to  a  plank,  calling  for  help, — alas,  in  vain, — upon  his 
father  and  his  father-in-law.  But  oftenest  on  his  lips* 
was  the  name  of  Halcyone.  To  her  his  thoughts  cling. 
He  prays  that  the  waves  may  bear  his  body  to  her  sight, 
and  that  it  may  receive  burial  at  her  hands.  At  length 
the  waters  overwhelm  him,  and  he  sinks.  The  Day- 
star  looked  dim  that  night.  Since  it  could  not  leave 
the  heavens,  it  shrouded  its  face  with  clouds. 

In  the  meanwhile  Halcyone,  ignorant  of  all  these  hor¬ 
rors,  counted  the  days  till  her  husband’s  promised  reY 
turn.  Now  she  gets  ready  the  garments  which  he  shall 
put  on,  and  now  what  she  shall  wear  when  he  arrives. 
To  all  the  gods  she  offers  frequent  incense,  but  more 
than  all  to  Juno.  For  her  husband,  who  was  no  more, 
she  prayed  incessantly:  that  he  might  be  safe;  that  he 
might  come  home;  that  he  might  not,  in  his  absence, 
see  any  one  that  he  would  love  better  than  her.  But 
of  all  these  prayers,  the  last  was  the  only  one  destined 
to  be  granted.  The  goddess,  at  length,  could  not  bear 
any  longer  to  be  pleaded  with  for  one  already  dead, 
and  to  have  hands  raised  to  her  altars  that  ought  rather 
to  be  offering  funeral  rites.  So,  calling  Iris,  she  said, 
“Iris,  my  faithful  messenger,  go  to  the  drowsy  dwell¬ 
ing  of  Somnus,  and  tell  him  to  send  a  vision  to  Halcy¬ 
one  in  the  form  of  Ceyx,  to  make  known  to  her  the 
event.” 

Iris  puts  on  her  robe  of  many  colors,  and  tingeing 
the  sky  with  her  bow,  seeks  the  palace  of  the  King  of 
Sleep.  Near  the  Cimmerian  country,  a  mountain  cave 
is  the  abode  of  the  dull  god  Somnus.  Here  Phoebus 
dares  not  come,  either  rising,  at  midday,  or  setting. 


72 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


Clouds  and  shadows  are  exhaled  from  the  ground,  and 
the  light  glimmers  faintly.  The  bird  of  dawning,  with 
crested  head,  never  there  calls  aloud  to  Aurora,  nor 
watchful  dog,  nor  more  sagacious  goose  disturbs  the 
silence.  No  wild  beast,  nor  cattle,  nor  branch  moved 
with  the  wind,  nor  sound  of  human  conversation,  breaks 
the  stillness.  Silence  reigns  there;  but  from  the  bottom 
of  the  rock  the  River  Lethe  flows,  and  by  its  murmur 
invites  to  sleep.  Poppies  grow  abundantly  before  the 
door  of  the  cave,  and  other  herbs,  from  whose  juices 
Night  collects  slumbers,  which  she  scatters  over  the 
darkened  earth.  There  is  no  gate  to  the  mansion,  to 
creak  on  its  hinges,  nor  any  watchman ;  but  in  the  midst 
a  couch  of  black  ebony,  adorned  with  black  plumes  and 
black  curtains.  There  the  god  reclines,  his  limbs  re¬ 
laxed  with  sleep.  Around  him  lie  dreams,  resembling 
all  various  forms,  as  many  as  the  harvest  bears  stalks, 
or  the  forest  leaves,  or  the  seashore  sand  grains. 

As  soon  as  the  goddess  entered  and  brushed  away 
the  dreams  that  hovered  around  her,  her  brightness  lit 
up  all  the  cave.  The  god,  scarce  opening  his  eyes,  and 
ever  and  anon  dropping  his  beard  upon  his  breast,  at 
last  shook  himself  free  from  himself,  and  leaning  on 
his  arm,  inquired  her  errand, — for  he  knew  who  she  was. 
She  answered,  “Somnus,  gentlest  of  the  gods,  tranquil¬ 
lizer  of  minds  and  soother  of  care-worn  hearts,  Juno 
sends  you  her  commands  that  you  despatch  a  dream  to 
Halcyone,  in  the  city  of  Trachine,  representing  her  lost 
husband  and  all  the  events  of  the  wreck.” 

Having  delivered  her  message,  Iris  hasted  away,  for 
she  could  not  longer  endure  the  stagnant  air,  and  as 
she  felt  drowsiness  creeping  over  her,  she  made  her 
escape,  and  returned  by  her  bow  the  way  she  came. 
Then  Somnus  called  one  of  his  numerous  sons, — Mor¬ 
pheus, — the  most  expert  in  counterfeiting  forms,  and 
in  imitating  the  walk,  the  countenance,  and  mode  of 
speaking,  even  the  clothes  and  attitudes  most  charac¬ 
teristic  of  each.  But  he  only  imitates  men,  leaving  it 
to  another  to  personate  birds,  beasts,  and  serpents.  Him 
they  call  Icelos ;  and  Phantasos  is  a  third,  who  turns 
himself  into  rocks,  waters,  woods,  and  other  things  with- 


CEYX  AND  HALCYONE 


73 


out  life.  These  wait  upon  kings  and  great  personages 
in  their  sleeping  hours,  while  others  move  among  the 
common  people.  Somnus  chose,  from  all  the  brothers, 
Morpheus,  to  perform  the  command  of  Iris;  then  laid 
his  head  on  his  pillow  and  yielded  himself  to  grateful 
repose. 

Morpheus  flew,  making  no  noise  with  his  wings,  and 
soon  came  to  the  Hsemonian  city,  where,  laying  aside  his 
wings,  he  assumed  the  form  of  Ceyx.  Under  that  form, 
but  pale  like  a  dead  man,  naked,  he  stood  before  the 
couch  of  the  wretched  wife.  His  beard  seemed  soaked 
with  water,  and  water  trickled  from  his  drowned  locks. 
Leaning  over  the  bed,  tears  streaming  from  his  eyes,  he 
said,  “Do  you  recognize  your  Ceyx,  unhappy  wife,  or 
has  death  too  much  changed  my  visage?  Behold  me, 
know  me,  your  husband’s  shade,  instead  of  himself. 
Your  prayers,  Halcyone,  availed  me  nothing.  I  am 
dead.  No  more  deceive  yourself  with  vain  hopes  of 
my  return.  The  stormy  winds  sunk  my  ship  in  the 
SEgean  Sea,  waves  filled  my  mouth  while  it  called  aloud 
on  you.  No  uncertain  messenger  tells  you  this,  no  vague 
rumor  brings  it  to  your  ears.  I  come  in  person,  a 
shipwrecked  man,  to  tell  you  my  fate.  Arise!  give  me 
tears,  give  me  lamentations,  let  me  not  go  down  to  Tar¬ 
tarus  unwept.”  To  these  words  Morpheus  added  the 
voice,  which  seemed  to  be  that  of  her  husband;  he 
seemed  to  pour  forth  genuine  tears ;  his  hands  had  the 
gestures  of  Ceyx. 

Halcyone,  weeping,  groaned,  and  stretched  out  her 
arms  in  her  sleep,  striving  to  embrace  his  body,  but 
grasping  only  the  air.  “Stay!”  she  cried;  “whither  do 
you  fly?  let  us  go  together.”  Her  own  voice  awakened 
her.  Starting  up,  she  gazed  eagerly  around,  to  see  if 
he  was  still  present,  for  the  servants,  alarmed  by  her 
cries,  had  brought  a  light.  When  she  found  him  not, 
she  smote  her  breast  and  rent  her  garments.  She  cares 
not  to  unbind  her  hair,  but  tears  it  wildly.  Her  nurse 
asks  what  is  the  cause  of  her  grief.  “Halcyone  is  no 
more,”  she  answers,  “she  perished  with  her  Ceyx.  Utter 
not  words  of  comfort,  he  is  shipwrecked  and  dead.  I 
have  seen  him,  I  have  recognized  him.  I  stretched  out 


74 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


my  hands  to  seize  him  and  detain  him.  His  shade  van¬ 
ished,  but  it  was  the  true  shade  of  my  husband.  Not 
with  the  accustomed  features,  not  with  the  beauty  that 
was  his,  but  pale,  naked,  and  with  his  hair  wet  with 
sea-water,  he  appeared  to  wretched  me.  Here,  in  this 
very  spot,  the  sad  vision  stood,” — and  she  looked  to  find 
the  mark  of  his  footsteps.  “This  it  was,  this  that  my 
presaging  mind  foreboded,  when  I  implored  him  not  to 
leave  me,  to  trust  himself  to  the  waves.  Oh,  how  I 
wish,  since  thou  wouldst  go,  thou  hadst  taken  me  with 
thee !  It  would  have  been  far  better.  Then  I  should 
have  had  no  remnant  of  life  to  spend  without  thee,  nor 
a  separate  death  to  die.  If  I  could  bear  to  live  and 
struggle  to  endure,  I  should  be  more  cruel  to  myself 
than  the  sea  has  been  to  me.  But  I  will  not  struggle,  I 
will  not  be  separated  from  thee,  unhappy  husband.  This 
time,  at  least,  I  will  keep  thee  company.  In  death,  if 
one  tomb  may  not  include  us,  one  epitaph  shall ;  if  I 
may  not  lay  my  ashes  with  thine,  my  name,  at  least, 
shall  not  be  separated.”  Her  grief  forbade  more  words, 
and  these  were  broken  with  tears  and  sobs. 

It  was  now  morning.  She  went  to  the  seashore,  and 
sought  the  spot  where  she  last  saw  him,  on  his  departure. 
“While  he  lingered  here,  and  cast  off  his  tacklings,  he 
gave  me  his  last  kiss.”  While  she  reviews  every  object, 
and  strives  to  recall  every  incident,  looking  out  over  the 
sea,  she  descries  an  indistinct  object  floating  in  the  water. 
At  first  she  was  in  doubt  what  it  was,  but  by  degrees  the 
waves  bore  it  nearer,  and  it  was  plainly  the  body  of  a 
man.  Though  unknowing  of  whom,  yet,  as  it  was  of 
some  shipwrecked  one,  she  was  deeply  moved,  and  gave 
it  her  tears,  saying,  “Alas !  unhappy  one,  and  unhappy, 
if  such  there  be,  thy  wife !”  Borne  by  the  waves,  it 
came  nearer.  As  she  more  and  more  nearly  views  it, 
she  trembles  more  and  more.  Now,  now  it  approaches 
the  shore.  Now  marks  that  she  recognizes  appear.  It 
is  her  husband!  Stretching  out  her  trembling  hands 
towards  it,  she  exclaims,  “O  dearest  husband,  is  it  thus 
you  return  to  me?” 

There  was  built  out  from  the  shore  a  mole,  constructed 
to  break  the  assaults  of  the  sea,  and  stem  its  violent 


CEYX  AND  HALCYONE 


75 


ingress.  She  leaped  upon  this  barrier  and  (it  was  won¬ 
derful  she  could  do  so)  she  flew,  and  striking  the  air 
with  wings  produced  on  the  instant,  skimmed  along  the 
surface  of  the  water,  an  unhappy  bird.  As  she  flew, 
her  throat  poured  forth  sounds  full  of  grief,  and  like 
the  voice  of  one  lamenting.  When  she  touched  the  mute 
and  bloodless  body,  she  enfolded  its  beloved  limbs  with 
her  new-formed  wings,  and  tried  to  give  kisses  with 
her  horny  beak.  Whether  Ceyx  felt  it,  or  whether  it 
was  only  the  action  of  the  waves,  those  who  looked  on 
doubted,  but  the  body  seemed  to  raise  its  head.  But 
indeed  he  did  feel  it,  and  by  the  pitying  gods  both  of 
them  were  changed  into  birds.  They  mate  and  have 
their  young  ones.  For  seven  placid  days,  in  winter 
time,  Halcyone  broods  over  her  nest,  which  floats  upon 
the  sea.  Then  the  way  is  safe  to  seamen.  FEolus  guards 
the  winds  and  keeps  them  from  disturbing  the  deep. 
The  sea  is  given  up,  for  the  time,  to  his  grandchildren. 

The  following  lines  from  Byron’s  “Bride  of  Abydos” 
might  seem  borrowed  from  the  concluding  part  of  this 
description,  if  it  were  not  stated  that  the  author  derived 
the  suggestion  from  observing  the  motion  of  a  floating 
corpse : 

“As  shaken  on  his  restless  pillow, 

His  head  heaves  with  the  heaving  billow. 

That  hand,  whose  motion  is  not  life, 

Yet  feebly  seems  to  menace  strife, 

Flung  by  the  tossing  tide  on  high, 

Then  levelled  with  the  wave  .  .  .” 

Milton  in  his  “Hymn  on  the  Nativity,”  thus  alludes 
to  the  fable  of  the  Halcyon : 

“But  peaceful  was  the  night 
Wherein  the  Prince  of  light 

His  reign  of  peace  upon  the  earth  began; 

The  winds  with  wonder  whist 
Smoothly  the  waters  kist 
Whispering  new  joys  to  the  mild  ocean, 

Who  now  hath  quite  forgot  to  rave 

While  birds  of  calm  sit  brooding  on  the  charmed  wave.” 


76 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


Keats,  also,  in  “Endymion,”  says: 

** O  magic  sleep !  O  comfortable  bird 
That  broodest  o’er  the  troubled  sea  of  the  mind 
Till  it  is  hushed  and  smooth.” 


CHAPTER  X 

VERTUMNUS  AND  POMONA 

The  Hamadryads  were  Wood-nymphs.  Pomona  was 
of  this  class,  and  no  one  excelled  her  in  love  of  the 
garden  and  the  culture  of  fruit.  She  cared  not  for 
forests  and  rivers,  but  loved  the  cultivated  country,  and 
trees  that  bear  delicious  apples.  Her  right  hand  bore 
for  its  weapon  not  a  javelin,  but  a  pruning-knife.  Armed 
with  this,  she  busied  herself  at  one  time  to  repress  the 
too  luxuriant  growths,  and  curtail  the  branches  that 
straggled  out  of  place ;  at  another,  to  split  the  twig  and 
insert  therein  a  graft,  making  the  branch  adopt  a  nurs¬ 
ling  not  its  own.  She  took  care,  too,  that  her  favorites 
should  not  suffer  from  drought,  and  led  streams 
of  water  by  them,  that  the  thirsty  roots  might  drink. 
This  occupation  was  her  pursuit,  her  passion;  and  she 
was  free  from  that  which  Venus  inspires.  She  was 
not  without  fear  of  the  country  people,  and  kept  her 
orchard  locked,  and  allowed  not  men  to  enter.  The 
Fauns  and  Satyrs  would  have  given  all  they  possessed  to 
win  her,  and  so  would  old  Sylvanus,  who  looks  young 
for  his  years,  and  Pan,  who  wears  a  garland  of  pine 
leaves  around  his  head.  But  Vertumnus  loved  her  best 
of  all;  yet  he  sped  no  better  than  the  rest.  O  how 
often,  in  the  disguise  of  a  reaper,  did  he  bring  her  corn 
in  a  basket,  and  looked  the  very  image  of  a  reaper! 
With  a  hay  band  tied  round  him,  one  would  think  he 
had  just  come  from  turning  over  the  grass.  Sometimes 
he  would  have  an  ox-goad  in  his  hand,  and  you  would 
have  said  he  had  just  unyoked  his  weary  oxen.  Now 
he  bore  a  pruning-hook,  and  personated  a  vine-dresser; 


HERCULES  IN  BATTLE  WITH  A  CENTAUR 
Florence.  John  of  Bologna. 


VERTUMNUS  AND  POMONA 


77 


and  again,  with  a  ladder  on  his  shoulder,  he  seemed 
as  if  he  was  going  to  gather  apples.  Sometimes  he 
trudged  along  as  a  discharged  soldier,  and  again  he 
bore  a  fishing-rod,  as  if  going  to  fish.  In  this  way  he 
gained  admission  to  her  again  and  again,  and  fed  his 
passion  with  the  sight  of  her. 

One  day  he  came  in  the  guise  of  an  old  woman,  her 
gray  hair  surmounted  with  a  cap,  and  a  staff  in  her 
hand.  She  entered  the  garden  and  admired  the  fruit. 
“It  does  you  credit,  my  dear,”  she  said,  and  kissed  her, 
not  exactly  with  an  old  woman’s  kiss.  She  sat  down 
on  a  bank,  and  looked  up  at  the  branches  laden  with 
fruit  which  hung  over  her.  Opposite  was  an  elm  en¬ 
twined  with  a  vine  loaded  with  swelling  grapes.  She 
praised  the  tree  and  its  associated  vine,  equally.  “But,” 
said  she,  “if  the  tree  stood  alone,  and  had  no  vine  cling¬ 
ing  to  it,  it  would  have  nothing  to  attract  or  offer  us 
but  its  useless  leaves.  And  equally  the  vine,  if  it  were 
not  twined  round  the  elm,  would  lie  prostrate  on  the 
ground.  Why  will  you  not  take  a  lesson  from  the  tree 
and  the  vine,  and  consent  to  unite  yourself  with  some 
one?  I  wish  you  would.  Helen  herself  had  not  more 
numerous  suitors,  nor  Penelope,  the  wife  of  shrewd 
Ulysses.  Even  while  you  spurn  them,  they  court  you, — 
rural  deities  and  others  of  every  kind  that  frequent 
these  mountains.  But  if  you  are  prudent  and  want  to 
make  a  good  alliance,  and  will  let  an  old  woman  advise 
you, — who  loves  you  better  than  you  have  any  idea  of, 
— dismiss  all  the  rest  and  accept  Vertumnus,  on  my 
recommendation.  I  know  him  as  well  as  he  knows  him¬ 
self.  He  is  not  a  wandering  deity,  but  belongs  to  these 
mountains.  Nor  is  he  like  too  many  of  the  lovers  now¬ 
adays,  who  love  any  one  they  happen  to  see;  he  loves 
you,  and  you  only.  Add  to  this,  he  is  young  and  hand¬ 
some,  and  has  the  art  of  assuming  any  shape  he  pleases, 
and  can  make  himself  just  what  you  command  him. 
Moreover,  he  loves  the  same  things  that  you  do,  de¬ 
lights  in  gardening,  and  handles  your  apples  with  ad¬ 
miration.  But  now  he  cares  nothing  for  fruits  nor 
flowers,  nor  anything  else,  but  only  yourself.  Take  pity 
on  him,  and  fancy  him  speaking  now  with  my  mouth. 


78 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


Remember  that  the  gods  punish  cruelty,  and  that  Venus 
hates  a  hard  heart,  and  will  visit  such  offences  sooner 
or  later.  To  prove  this,  let  me  tell  you  a  story,  which 
is  well  known  in  Cyprus  to  be  a  fact;  and  I  hope  it 
will  have  the  effect  to  make  you  more  merciful. 

“Iphis  was  a  young  man  of  humble  parentage,  who 
saw  and  loved  Anaxarete,  a  noble  lady  of  the  ancient 
family  of  Teucer.  He  struggled  long  with  his  passion, 
but  when  he  found  he  could  not  subdue  it,  he  came  a 
suppliant  to  her  mansion.  First  he  told  his  passion  to 
her  nurse,  a^id  begged  her  as  she  loved  her  foster-child 
to  favor  his  suit.  And  then  he  tried  to  win  her  do¬ 
mestics  to  his  side.  Sometimes  he  committed  his  vows 
to  written  tablets,  and  often  hung  at  her  door  garlands 
which  he  had  moistened  with  his  tears.  He  stretched 
himself  on  her  threshold,  and  uttered  his  complaints  to 
the  cruel  bolts  and  bars..  She  was  deafer  than  the 
surges  which  rise  in  the  November  gale;  harder  than 
steel  from  the  German  forges,  or  a  rock  that  still  clings 
to  its  native  cliff.  She  mocked  and  laughed  at  him, 
adding  cruel  words  to  her  ungentle  treatment,  and  gave 
not  the  slightest  gleam  of  hope. 

“Iphis  could  not  any  longer  endure  the  torments  of 
hopeless  love,  and,  standing  before  her  doors,  he  spake 
these  last  words :  ‘Anaxarete,  you  have  conquered,  and 
shall  no  longer  have  to  bear  my  importunities.  Enjoy 
your  triumph!  Sing  songs  of  joy,  and  bind  your  fore¬ 
head  with  laurel, — you  have  conquered !  I  die ;  stony 
heart,  rejoice!  This  at  least  I  can  do  to  gratify  you 
and  force  you  to  praise  me;  and  thus  shall  I  prove 
that  the  love  of  you  left  me  but  with  life.  Nor  will 
I  leave  it  to  rumor  to  tell  you  of  my  death.  I  will 
come  myself,  and  you  shall  see  me  die,  and  feast  your 
eyes  on  the  spectacle.  Yet,  O  ye  gods,  who  look  down 
on  mortal  woes,  observe  my  fate !  I  ask  but  this :  let 
me  be  remembered  in  coming  ages,  and  add  those  years 
to  my  fame  which  you  have  reft  from  my  life.*  Thus 
he  said,  and,  turning  his  pale  face  and  weeping  eyes 
towards  her  mansion,  he  fastened  a  rope  to  the  gate¬ 
post,  on  which  he  had  often  hung  garlands,  and  putting 
his  head  into  the  noose,  he  murmured,  ‘This  garland  at 


VERTUMNUS  AND  POMONA 


79 


least  will  please  you,  cruel  girl!’  and  falling  hung  sus¬ 
pended  with  his  neck  broken.  As  he  fell  he  struck 
against  the  gate,  and  the  sound  was  as  the  sound  of  a 
groan.  The  servants  opened  the  door  and  found  him 
dead,  and  with  exclamations  of  pity  raised  him  and 
carried  him  home  to  his  mother,  for  his  father  was 
not  living.  She  received  the  dead  body  of  her  son,  and 
folded  the  cold  form  to  her  bosom,  while  she  poured 
forth  the  sad  words  which  bereaved  mothers  utter.  The 
mournful  funeral  passed  through  the  town,  and  the  pale 
corpse  was  borne  on  a  bier  to  the  place  of  the  funeral 
pile.  By  chance  the  home  of  Anaxarete  was  on  the 
street  where  the  procession  passed,  and  the  lamentations 
of  the  mourners  met  the  ears  of  her  whom  the  avenging 
deity  had  already  marked  for  punishment. 

“  ‘Let  us  see  this  sad  procession/  said  she,  and 
mounted  to  a  turret,  whence  through  an  open  window 
she  looked  upon  the  funeral.  Scarce  had  her  eyes  rested 
upon  the  form  of  Iphis  stretched  on  the  bier,  when 
they  began  to  stiffen,  and  the  warm  blood  in  her  body 
to  become  cold.  Endeavoring  to  step  back,  she  found 
she  could  not  move  her  feet;  trying  to  turn  away  her 
face,  she  tried  in  vain ;  and  by  degrees  all  her  limbs 
became  stony  like  her  heart.  That  you  may  not  doubt 
the  fact,  the  statue  still  remains,  and  stands  in  the 
temple  of  Venus  at  Salamis,  in  the  exact  form  of  the 
lady.  Now  think  of  these  things,  my  dear,  and  lay 
aside  your  scorn  and  your  delays,  and  accept  a  lover. 
So  may  neither  the  vernal  frosts  blight  your  young 
fruits,  nor  furious  winds  scatter  your  blossoms !” 

When  Vertumnus  had  spoken  thus,  he  dropped  the 
disguise  of  an  old  woman,  and  stood  before  her  in  his 
proper  person,  as  a  comely  youth.  It  appeared  to  her 
like  the  sun  bursting  through  a  cloud.  He  would  have 
renewed  his  entreaties,  but  there  was  no  need;  his  argu¬ 
ments  and  the  sight  of  his  true  form  prevailed,  and 
the  Nymph  no  longer  resisted,  but  owned  a  mutual 
flame. 

Pomona  was  the  especial  patroness  of  the  Apple- 
orchard,  and  as  such  she  was  invoked  by  Phillips,  the 


80 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


author  of  a  poem  on  Cider,  in  blank  verse.  Thomson 
in  the  “Seasons”  alludes  to  him: 

“Phillips,  Pomona’s  bard,  the  second  thou 
Who  nobly  durst,  in  rhyme-unfettered  verse, 

With  British  freedom,  sing  the  British  song.” 

But  Pomona  was  also  regarded  as  presiding  over 
other  fruits,  and  as  such  is  invoked  by  Thomson: 

“Bear  me,  Pomona,  to  thy  citron  groves, 

To  where  the  lemon  and  the  piercing  lime, 

With  the  deep  orange,  glowing  through  the  green, 

Their  lighter  glories  blend.  Lay  me  reclined 
Beneath  the  spreading  tamarind,  that  shakes, 

Fanned  by  the  breeze,  its  fever-cooling  fruit.” 


CHAPTER  XI 

CUPID  AND  PSYCHE 

A  certain  king  and  queen  had  three  daughters.  The 
charms  of  the  two  elder  were  more  than  common,  but 
the  beauty  of  the  youngest  was  so  wonderful  that  the 
poverty  of  language  is  unable  to  express  its  due  praise. 
The  fame  of  her  beauty  was  so  great  that  strangers 
from  neighboring  countries  came  in  crowds  to  enjoy 
the  sight,  and  looked  on  her  with  amazement,  paying  her 
that  homage  which  is  due  only  to  Venus  herself.  In( 
fact  Venus  found  her  altars  deserted,  while  men  turned 
their  devotion  to  this  young  virgin.  As  she  passed 
along,  the  people  sang  her  praises,  and  strewed  her  way 
with  chaplets  and  flowers. 

This  perversion  of  homage  due  only  to  the  immortal 
powers  to  the  exaltation  of  a  mortal  gave  great  offence 
to  the  real  Venus.  Shaking  her  ambrosial  locks  with 
indignation,  she  exclaimed,  “Am  I  then  to  be  eclipsed 
in  my  honors  by  a  mortal  girl?  In  vain  then  did  that 
royal  shepherd,  whose  judgment  was  approved  by  Jove 
himself,  give  me  the  palm  of  beauty  over  my  illustrious 


CUPID  AND  PSYCHE 


81 


rivals,  Pallas  and  Juno.  But  she  shall  not  so  quietly 
usurp  my  honors.  I  will  give  her  cause  to  repent  of  so 
unlawful  a  beauty.” 

Thereupon  she  calls  her  winged  son  Cupid,  mischiev¬ 
ous  enough  in  his  own  nature,  and  rouses  and  provokes 
him  yet  more  by  her  complaints.  She  points  out  Psyche 
to  him  and  says,  “My  dear  son,  punish  that  contumacious 
beauty ;  give  thy  mother  a  revenge  as  sweet  as  her  in¬ 
juries  are  great;  infuse  into  the  bosom  of  that  haughty 
girl  a  passion  for  some  low,  mean,  unworthy  being,  so 
that  she  may  reap  a  mortification  as  great  as  her  present 
exultation  and  triumph.” 

Cupid  prepared  to  obey  the  commands  of  his  mother. 
There  are  two  fountains  in  Venus’s  garden,  one  of 
sweet  waters,  the  other  of  bitter.  Cupid  filled  two  am¬ 
ber  vases,  one  from  each  fountain,  and  suspending  them 
from  the  top  of  his  quiver,  hastened  to  the  chamber 
of  Psyche,  whom  he  found  asleep.  He  shed  a  few 
drops  from  the  bitter  fountain  over  her  lips,  though  the 
sight  of  her  almost  moved  him  to  pity;  then  touched 
her  side  with  the  point  of  his  arrow.  At  the  touch 
she  awoke,  and  opened  eyes  upon  Cupid  (himself  in¬ 
visible),  which  so  startled  him  that  in  his  confusion 
he  wounded  himself  with  his  own  arrow.  Heedless  of 
his  wound,  his  whole  thought  now  was  to  repair  the 
mischief  he  had  done,  and  he  poured  the  balmy  drops 
of  joy  over  all  her  silken  ringlets. 

Psyche,  henceforth  frowned  upon  by  Venus,  derived 
no  benefit  from  all  her  charms.  True,  all  eyes  were 
cast  eagerly  upon  her,  and  every  mouth  spoke  her  praises ; 
but  neither  king,  royal  youth,  nor  plebeian  presented 
himself  to  demand  her  in  marriage.  Her  two  elder 
sisters  of  moderate  charms  had  now  long  been  married 
to  two  royal  princes ;  but  Psyche,  in  her  lonely  apart¬ 
ment,  deplored  her  solitude,  sick  of  that  beauty  which, 
while  it  procured  abundance  of  flattery,  had  failed  to 
awaken  love. 

Her  parents,  afraid  that  they  had  unwittingly  incurred 
the  anger  of  the  gods,  consulted  the  oracle  of  Apollo, 
and  received  this  answer :  “The  virgin  is  destined  for 
the  bride  of  no  mortal  lover.  Her  future  husband  awaits 


82 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


her  on  the  top  of  the  mountain.  He  is  a  monster  whom 
neither  gods  nor  men  can  resist.” 

This  dreadful  decree  of  the  oracle  filled  all  the  people 
with  dismay,  and  her  parents  abandoned  themselves  to 
grief.  But  Psyche  said,  “Why,  my  dear  parents,  do 
you  now  lament  me?  You  should  rather  have  grieved 
when  the  people  showered  upon  me  undeserved  honors, 
and  with  one  voice  called  me  a  Venus.  I  now  perceive 
that  I  am  a  victim  to  that  name.  I  submit.  Lead  me 
to  that  rock  to  which  my  unhappy  fate  has  destined  me.” 
Accordingly,  all  things  being  prepared,  the  royal  maid 
took  her  place  in  the  procession,  which  more  resembled 
a  funeral  than  a  nuptial  pomp,  and  with  her  parents, 
amid  the  lamentations  of  the  people,  ascended  the  moun¬ 
tain,  on  the  summit  of  which  they  left  her  alone,  and 
with  sorrowful  hearts  returned  home. 

While  Psyche  stood  on  the  ridge  of  the  mountain, 
panting  with  fear  and  with  eyes  full  of  tears,  the  gentle 
Zephyr  raised  her  from  the  earth  and  bore  her  with  an 
easy  motion  into  a  flowery  dale.  By  degrees  her  mind 
became  composed,  and  she  laid  herself  down  on  the 
grassy  bank  to  sleep.  When  she  awoke  refreshed  with 
sleep,  she  looked  round  and  beheld  near  by  a  pleasant 
grove  of  tall  and  stately  trees.  She  entered  it,  and  in 
the  midst  discovered  a  fountain,  sending  forth  clear  and 
crystal  waters,  and  fast  by,  a  magnificent  palace  whose 
august  front  impressed  the  spectator  that  it  was  not  the 
work  of  mortal  hands,  but  the  happy  retreat  of  some 
god.  Drawn  by  admiration  and  wonder,  she  approached 
the  building  and  ventured  to  enter.  Every  object  she 
met  filled  her  with  pleasure  and  amazement.  Golden 
pillars  supported  the  vaulted  roof,  and  the  walls  were 
enriched  with  carvings  and  paintings  representing  beasts 
of  the  chase  and  rural  scenes,  adapted  to  delight  the 
eye  of  the  beholder.  Proceeding  onward,  she  perceived 
that  besides  the  apartments  of  state  there  were  others 
filled  with  all  manner  of  treasures,  and  beautiful  and 
precious  productions  of  nature  and  art. 

While  her  eyes  were  thus  occupied,  a  voice  addressed 
her,  though  she  saw  no  one,  uttering  these  words :  “ Sov¬ 
ereign  lady,  all  that  you  see  is  yours.  We  whose  voices 


CUPID  AND  PSYCHE 


83 


you  hear  are  your  servants  and  shall  obey  all  your  com¬ 
mands  with  our  utmost  care  and  diligence.  Retire, 
therefore,  to  your  chamber  and  repose  on  your  bed  of 
down,  and  when  you  see  fit  repair  to  the  bath.  Supper 
awaits  you  in  the  adjoining  alcove  when  it  pleases  you 
to  take  your  seat  there.” 

Psyche  gave  ear  to  the  admonitions  of  her  vocal  at¬ 
tendants,  and  after  repose  and  the  refreshment  of  the 
bath,  seated  herself  in  the  alcove,  where  a  table  imme¬ 
diately  presented  itself,  without  any  visible  aid  from 
waiters  or  servants,  and  covered  with  the  greatest  deli¬ 
cacies  of  food  and  the  most  nectareous  wines.  Her  ears 
too  were  feasted  with  music  from  invisible  performers ; 
of  whom  one  sang,  another  played  on  the  lute,  and  all 
closed  in  the  wonderful  harmony  of  a  full  chorus. 

She  had  not  yet  seen  her  destined  husband.  He  came 
only  in  the  hours  of  darkness  and  fled  before  the  dawn 
of  morning,  but  his  accents  were  full  of  love,  and  in¬ 
spired  a  like  passion  in  her.  She  often  begged  him  to 
stay  and  let  her  behold  him,  but  he  would  not  consent. 
On  the  contrary  he  charged  her  to  make  no  attempt 
to  see  him,  for  it  was  his  pleasure,  for  the  best  of  rea¬ 
sons,  to  keep  concealed.  “Why  should  you  wish  to 
behold  me?”  he  said;  “have  you  any  doubt  of  my  love? 
have  you  any  wish  ungratified?  If  you  saw  me,  per¬ 
haps  you  would  fear  me,  perhaps  adore  me,  but  all  I 
ask  of  you  is  to  love  me.  I  would  rather  you  would 
love  me  as  an  equal  than  adore  me  as  a  god.” 

This  reasoning  somewhat  quieted  Psyche  for  a  time, 
and  while  the  novelty  lasted  she  felt  quite  happy.  But 
at  length  the  thought  of  her  parents,  left  in  ignorance 
of  her  fate,  and  of  her  sisters,  precluded  from  sharing 
with  her  the  delights  of  her  situation,  preyed  on  her 
mind  and  made  her  begin  to  feel  her  palace  as  but  a 
splendid  prison.  When  her  husband  came  one  night, 
she  told  him  her  distress,  and  at  last  drew  from  him  an 
unwilling  consent  that  her  sisters  should  be  brought  to 
see  her. 

So,  calling  Zephyr,  she  acquainted  him  with  her  hus¬ 
band's  commands,  and  he,  promptly  obedient,  soon 
brought  them  across  the  mountain  down  to  their  sis- 


84 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


ter’s  valley.  They  embraced  her  and  she  returned  their 
caresses.  “Come/’  said  Psyche,  “enter  with  me  my 
house  and  refresh  yourselves  with  whatever  your  sister 
has  to  offer.”  Then  taking  their  hands  she  led  them 
into  her  golden  palace,  and  committed  them  to  the  care 
of  her  numerous  train  of  attendant  voices,  to  refresh 
them  in  her  baths  and  at  her  table,  and  to  show  them 
all  her  treasures.  The  view  of  these  celestial  delights 
caused  envy  to  enter  their  bosoms,  at  seeing  their  young 
sister  possessed  of  such  state  and  splendor,  so  much 
exceeding  their  own. 

They  asked  her  numberless  questions,  among  others 
what  sort  of  a  person  her  husband  was.  Psyche  replied 
that  he  was  a  beautiful  youth,  who  generally  spent  the 
daytime  in  hunting  upon  the  mountains.  The  sisters, 
not  satisfied  with  this  reply,  soon  made  her  confess  that 
she  had  never  seen  him.  Then  they  proceeded  to  fill  her 
bosom  with  dark  suspicions.  “Call  to  mind,”  they  said, 
“the  Pythian  oracle  that  declared  you  destined  to  marry 
a  direful  and  tremendous  monster.  The  inhabitants  of 
this  valley  say  that  your  husband  is  a  terrible  and  mon¬ 
strous  serpent,  who  nourishes  you  for  a  while  with 
dainties  that  he  may  by  and  by  devour  you.  Take  our 
advice.  Provide  yourself  with  a  lamp  and  a  sharp  knife ; 
put  them  in  concealment  that  your  husband  may  not 
discover  them,  and  when  he  is  sound  asleep,  slip  out  of 
bed,  bring  forth  your  lamp,  and  see  for  yourself  whether 
what  they  say  is  true  or  not.  If  it  is,  hesitate  not  to 
cut  off  the  monster’s  head,  and  thereby  recover  your 
liberty.” 

Psyche  resisted  these  persuasions  as  well  as  she  could, 
but  they  did  not  fail  to  have  their  effect  on  her  mind,  and 
when  her  sisters  were  gone,  their  words  and  her  own 
curiosity  were  too  strong  for  her  to  resist.  So  she 
prepared  her  lamp  and  a  sharp  knife,  and  hid  them  out 
of  sight  of  her  husband.  When  he  had  fallen  into  his 
first  sleep,  she  silently  rose  and  uncovering  her  lamp  be¬ 
held  not  a  hideous  monster,  but  the  most  beautiful  and 
charming  of  the  gods,  with  his  golden  ringlets  wandering 
over  his  snowy  neck  and  crimson  cheek,  with  two  dewy 
wings  on  his  shoulders,  whiter  than  snow,  and  with 


CUPID  AND  PSYCHE 


85 


shining  feathers  like  the  tender  blossoms  of  spring.  As 
she  leaned  the  lamp  over  to  have  a  nearer  view  of  his 
face  a  drop  of  burning  oil  fell  on  the  shoulder  of  the 
god,  startled  with  which  he  opened  his  eyes  and  fixed 
them  full  upon  her;  then,  without  saying  one  word,  he 
spread  his  white  wings  and  flew  out  of  the  window. 
Psyche,  in  vain  endeavoring  to  follow  him,  fell  from 
the  window  to  the  ground.  Cupid,  beholding  her  as  she 
lay  in  the  dust,  stopped  his  flight  for  an  instant  and 
said,  “O  foolish  Psyche,  is  it  thus  you  repay  my  love? 
After  having  disobeyed  my  mother’s  commands  and 
made  you  my  wife,  will  you  think  me  a  monster  and 
cut  off  my  head  ?  But  go ;  return  to  your  sisters,  whose 
advice  you  seem  to  think  preferable  to  mine.  I  inflict 
no  other  punishment  on  you  than  to  leave  you  forever. 
Love  cannot  dwell  with  suspicion.”  So  saying,  he  fled 
away,  leaving  poor  Psyche  prostrate  on  the  ground,  fill¬ 
ing  the  place  with  mournful  lamentations. 

When  she  had  recovered  some  degree  of  composure 
she  looked  around  her,  but  the  palace  and  gardens  had 
vanished,  and  she  found  herself  in  the  open  field  not 
far  from  the  city  where  her  sisters  dwelt.  She  repaired 
thither  and  told  them  the  whole  story  of  her  misfor¬ 
tunes,  at  which,  pretending  to  grieve,  those  spiteful 
creatures  inwardly  rejoiced.  “For  now,”  said  they,  “he 
will  perhaps  choose  one  of  us.”  With  this  idea,  with¬ 
out  saying  a  word  of  her  intentions,  each  of  them  rose 
early  the  next  morning  and  ascended  the  mountains,  and 
having  reached  the  top,  called  upon  Zephyr  to  receive 
her  and  bear  her  to  his  lord;  then  leaping  up,  and  not 
being  sustained  by  Zephyr,  fell  down  the  precipice  and 
was  dashed  to  pieces. 

Psyche  meanwhile  wandered  day  and  night,  without 
food  or  repose,  in  search  of  her  husband.  Casting  her 
eyes  on  a  lofty  mountain  having  on  its  brow  a  mag¬ 
nificent  temple,  she  sighed  and  said  to  herself,  “Per¬ 
haps  my  love,  my  lord,  inhabits  there,”  and  directed  her 
steps  thither. 

She  had  no  sooner  entered  than  she  saw  heaps  of 
corn,  some  in  loose  ears  and  some  in  sheaves,  with 
mingled  ears  of  barley.  Scattered  about,  lay  sickles  and 


86 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


rakes,  and  all  the  instruments  of  harvest,  without  order, 
as  if  thrown  carelessly  out  of  the  weary  reapers’  hands 
in  the  sultry  hours  of  the  day. 

This  unseemly  confusion  the  pious  Psyche  put  an  end 
to,  by  separating  and  sorting  everything  to  its  proper 
place  and  kind,  believing  that  she  ought  to  neglect  none 
of  the  gods,  but  endeavor  by  her  piety  to  engage  them 
all  in  her  behalf.  The  holy  Ceres,  whose  temple  it  was, 
finding  her  so  religiously  employed,  thus  spoke  to  her: 
“O  Psyche,  truly  worthy  of  our  pity,  though  I  cannot 
shield  you  from  the  frowns  of  Venus,  yet  I  can  teach 
you  how  best  to  allay  her  displeasure.  Go,  then,  and 
voluntarily  surrender  yourself  to  your  lady  and  sov¬ 
ereign,  and  try  by  modesty  and  submission  to  win  her 
forgiveness,  and  perhaps  her  favor  will  restore  you  the 
husband  you  have  lost.” 

Psyche  obeyed  the  commands  of  Ceres  and  took  her 
way  to  the  temple  of  Venus,  endeavoring  to  fortify  her 
mind  and  ruminating  on  what  she  should  say  and  how 
best  propitiate  the  angry  goddess,  feeling  that  the  issue 
was  doubtful  and  perhaps  fatal. 

Venus  received  her  with  angry  countenance.  “Most 
undutiful  and  faithless  of  servants,”  said  she,  “do  you 
at  last  remember  that  you  really  have  a  mistress?  Or 
have  you  rather  come  to  see  your  sick  husband,  yet  laid 
up  of  the  wound  given  him  by  his  loving  wife?  You  are 
so  ill-favored  and  disagreeable  that  the  only  way  you 
can  merit  your  lover  must  be  by  dint  of  industry  and 
diligence.  I  will  make  trial  of  your  housewifery.”  Then 
she  ordered  Psyche  to  be  led  to  the  storehouse  of  her 
temple,  where  was  laid  up  a  great  quantity  of  wheat, 
barley,  millet,  vetches,  beans,  and  lentils  prepared  for 
food  for  her  pigeons,  and  said,  “Take  and  separate  all 
these  grains,  putting  all  of  the  same  kind  in  a  parcel 
by  themselves,  and  see  that  you  get  it  done  before  even¬ 
ing.”  Then  Venus  departed  and  left  her  to  her  task. 

But  Psyche,  in  a  perfect  consternation  at  the  enor¬ 
mous  work,  sat  stupid  and  silent,  without  moving  a  fin¬ 
ger  to  the  inextricable  heap. 

While  she  sat  despairing,  Cupid  stirred  up  the  little 
ant,  a  native  of  the  fields,  to  take  compassion  on  her. 


CUPID  AND  PSYCHE 


87 


The  leader  of  the  ant  hill,  followed  by  whole  hosts  of 
his  six-legged  subjects,  approached  the  heap,  and  with 
the  utmost  diligence,  taking  grain  by  grain,  they  sep¬ 
arated  the  pile,  sorting  each  kind  to  its  parcel;  and 
when  it  was  all  done,  they  vanished  out  of  sight  in  a 
moment. 

Venus  at  the  approach  of  twilight  returned  from  the 
banquet  of  the  gods,  breathing  odors  and  crowned  with 
roses.  Seeing  the  task  done,  she  exclaimed,  “This  is 
no  work  of  yours,  wicked  one,  but  his,  whom  to  your 
own  and  his  misfortune  you  have  enticed.”  So  saying, 
she  threw  her  a  piece  of  black  bread  for  her  supper  and 
went  away. 

Next  morning  Venus  ordered  Psyche  to  be  called 
and  said  to  her,  “Behold  yonder  grove  which  stretches 
along  the  margin  of  the  water.  There  you  will  find 
sheep  feeding  without  a  shepherd,  with  golden-shining 
fleeces  on  their  backs.  Go,  fetch  me  a  sample  of  that 
precious  wool  gathered  from  every  one  of  their  fleeces.” 

Psyche  obediently  went  to  the  riverside,  prepared  to 
do  her  best  to  execute  the  command.  But  the  river  god 
inspired  the  reeds  with  harmonious  murmurs,  which 
seemed  to  say,  “O  maiden,  severely  tried,  tempt  not  the 
dangerous  flood,  nor  venture  among  the  formidable 
rams  on  the  other  side,  for  as  long  as  they  are  under 
the  influence  of  the  rising  sun,  they  burn  with  a  cruel 
rage  to  destroy  mortals  with  their  sharp  horns  or  rude 
teeth.  But  when  the  noontide  sun  has  driven  the  cattle 
to  the  shade,  and  the  serene  spirit  of  the  flood  has  lulled 
them  to  rest,  you  may  then  cross  in  safety,  and  you  will 
find  the  woolly  gold  sticking  to  the  bushes  and  the 
trunks  of  the  trees.” 

Thus  the  compassionate  river  god  gave  Psyche  in¬ 
structions  how  to  accomplish  her  task,  and  by  observ¬ 
ing  his  directions  she  soon  returned  to  Venus  with  her 
arms  full  of  the  golden  fleece;  but  she  received  not 
the  approbation  of  her  implacable  mistress,  who  said, 
“I  know  very  well  it  is  by  none  of  your  own  doings 
that  you  have  succeeded  in  this  task,  and  I  am  not 
satisfied  yet  that  you  have  any  capacity  to  make  your¬ 
self  useful.  But  I  have  another  task  for  you.  Here, 


88 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


take  this  box  and  go  your  way  to  the  infernal  shades, 
and  give  this  box  to  Proserpine  and  say,  ‘My  mistress 
Venus  desires  you  to  send  her  a  little  of  your  beauty, 
for  in  tending  her  sick  son  she  has  lost  some  of  her 
own.'  Be  not  too  long  on  your  errand,  for  I  must  paint 
myself  with  it  to  appear  at  the  circle  of  the  gods  and 
goddesses  this  evening.” 

Psyche  was  now  satisfied  that  her  destruction  was  at 
hand,  being  obliged  to  go  with  her  own  feet  directly 
down  to  Erebus.  Wherefore,  to  make  no  delay  of  what 
was  not  to  be  avoided,  she  goes  to  the  top  of  a  high 
tower  to  precipitate  herself  headlong,  thus  to  descend 
the  shortest  way  to  the  shades  below.  But  a  voice  from 
the  tower  said  to  her,  “Why,  poor  unlucky  girl,  dost 
thou  design  to  put  an  end  to  thy  days  in  so  dreadful  a 
manner?  And  what  cowardice  makes  thee  sink  under 
this  last  danger  who  hast  been  so  miraculously  sup¬ 
ported  in  all  thy  former?”  Then  the  voice  told  her  how 
by  a  certain  cave  she  might  reach  the  realms  of  Pluto, 
and  how  to  avoid  all  the  dangers  of  the  road,  to  pass 
by  Cerberus,  the  three-headed  dog,  and  prevail  on 
Charon,  the  ferryman,  to  take  her  across  the  black  river 
and  bring  her  back  again.  But  the  voice  added,  “When 
Proserpine  has  given  you  the  box  filled  with  her  beauty, 
of  all  things  this  is  chiefly  to  be  observed  by  you,  that 
you  never  once  open  or  look  into  the  box  nor  allow  your 
curiosity  to  pry  into  the  treasure  of  the  beauty  of  the 
goddesses.” 

Psyche,  encouraged  by  this  advice,  obeyed  it  in  all 
things,  and  taking  heed  to  her  ways  travelled  safely  to 
the  kingdom  of  Pluto.  She  was  admitted  to  the  palace 
of  Proserpine,  and  without  accepting  the  delicate  seat 
or  delicious  banquet  that  was  offered  her,  but  contented 
with  coarse  bread  for  her  food,  she  delivered  her  mes¬ 
sage  from  Venus.  Presently  the  box  was  returned  to 
her,  shut  and  filled  with  the  precious  commodity.  Then 
she  returned  the  way  she  came,  and  glad  was  she  to 
come  out  once  more  into  the  light  of  day. 

But  having  got  so  far  successfully  through  her  dan¬ 
gerous  task,  a  longing  desire  seized  her  to  examine  the 
contents  of  the  box.  “What,”  said  she,  “shall  I,  the 


CUPID  AND  PSYCHE 


89 


carrier  of  this  divine  beauty,  not  take  the  least  bit  to 
put  on  my  cheeks  to  appear  to  more  advantage  in  the 
eyes  of  my  beloved  husband !”  So  she  carefully  opened 
the  box,  but  found  nothing  there  of  any  beauty  at  all, 
but  an  infernal  and  truly  Stygian  sleep,  which  being 
thus  set  free  from  its  prison,  took  possession  of  her, 
and  she  fell  down  in  the  midst  of  the  road,  a  sleepy 
corpse  without  sense  or  motion. 

But  Cupid,  being  now  recovered  from  his  wound,  and 
not  able  longer  to  bear  the  absence  of  his  beloved 
Psyche,  slipping  through  the  smallest  crack  of  the  win¬ 
dow  of  his  chamber  which  happened  to  be  left  open, 
flew  to  the  spot  where  Psyche  lay,  and  gathering  up  the 
sleep  from  her  body  closed  it  again  in  the  box,  and 
waked  Psyche  with  a  light  touch  of  one  of  his  arrows. 
“Again,”  said  he,  “hast  thou  almost  perished  by  the 
same  curiosity.  But  now  perform  exactly  the  task  im¬ 
posed  on  you  by  my  mother,  and  I  will  take  care  of  the 
rest.”  . 

Then  Cupid,  as  swift  as  lightning  penetrating  the 
heights  of  heaven,  presented  himself  before  Jupiter  with 
his  supplication.  Jupiter  lent  a  favoring  ear,  and  plead¬ 
ed  the  cause  of  the  lovers  so  earnestly  with  Venus  that 
he  won  her  consent.  On  this  he  sent  Mercury  to  bring 
Psyche  up  to  the  heavenly  assembly,  and  when  she  ar¬ 
rived,  handing  her  a  cup  of  ambrosia,  he  said,  “Drink 
this,  Psyche,  and  be  immortal;  nor  shall  Cupid  ever 
break  away  from  the  knot  in  which  he  is  tied,  but  these 
nuptials  shall  be  perpetual.” 

Thus  Psyche  became  at  last  united  to  Cupid,  and  in 
due  time  they  had  a  daughter  bom  to  them  whose  name 
was  Pleasure. 

The  fable  of  Cupid  and  Psyche  is  usually  considered 
allegorical.  The  Greek  name  for  a  butterfly  is  Psyche, 
and  the  same  word  means  the  soul.  There  is  no  illus¬ 
tration  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul  so  striking  and 
beautiful  as  the  butterfly,  bursting  on  brilliant  wings 
from  the  tomb  in  which  it  has  lain,  after  a  dull,  grovel¬ 
ling,  caterpillar  existence,  to  flutter  in  the  blaze  of  day 
and  feed  on  the  most  fragrant  and  delicate  productions 


90 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


of  the  spring.  Psyche,  then,  is  the  human  soul,  which 
is  purified  by  sufferings  and  misfortunes,  and  is  thus 
prepared  for  the  enjoyment  of  true  and  pure  happi¬ 
ness. 

In  works  of  art  Psyche  is  represented  as  a  maiden 
with  the  wings  of  a  butterfly,  along  with  Cupid,  in  the 
different  situations  described  in  the  allegory. 

Milton  alludes  to  the  story  of  Cupid  and  Psyche  in 
the  conclusion  of  his  “Comus” : 

“Celestial  Cupid,  her  famed  son,  advanced, 

Holds  his  dear  Psyche  sweet  entranced, 

After  her  wandering  labors  long, 

Till  free  consent  the  gods  among 
Make  her  his  eternal  bride; 

And  from  her  fair  unspotted  side 
Two  blissful  twins  are  to  be  bom, 

Youth  and  Joy;  so  Jove  hath  sworn.” 

The  allegory  of  the  story  of  Cupid  and  Psyche  is  well 
presented  in  the  beautiful  lines  of  T.  K.  Harvey: 

“They  wove  bright  fables  in  the  days  of  old, 

When  reason  borrowed  fancy’s  painted  wings ; 

When  truth’s  clear  river  flowed  o’er  sands  of  gold, 

And  told  in  song  its  high  and  mystic  things ! 

And  such  the  sweet  and  solemn  tale  of  her 

The  pilgrim  heart,  to  whom  a  dream  was  given, 

That  led  her  through  the  world, — Love’s  worshipper, — 

To  seek  on  earth  for  him  whose  home  was  heaven ! 

“In  the  full  city, — by  the  haunted  fount, — 

Through  the  dim  grotto’s  tracery  of  spars, — 

’Mid  the  pine  temples,  on  the  moonlit  mount, 

Where  silence  sits  to  listen  to  the  stars; 

In  the  deep  glade  where  dwells  the  brooding  dove, 

The  painted  valley,  and  the  scented  air, 

She  heard  far  echoes  of  the  voice  of  Love, 

And  found  his  footsteps’  traces  everywhere. 

“But  nevermore  they  met !  since  doubts  and  fears, 

Those  phantom  shapes  that  haunt  and  blight  the  earth, 
Had  come  ’twixt  her,  a  child  of  sin  and  tears, 

And  that  bright  spirit  of  immortal  birth; 

Until  her  pining  soul  and  weeping  eyes 
Had  learned  to  seek  him  only  in  the  skies; 

Till  wings  unto  the  weary  heart  were  given, 

And  she  became  Love’s  angel  bride  in  heaven!” 


CADMUS 


91 


The  story  of  Cupid  and  Psyche  first  appears  in  the 
works  of  Apuleius,  a  writer  of  the  second  century  of 
our  era.  It  is  therefore  of  much  more  recent  date  than 
most  of  the  legends  of  the  Age  of  Fable.  It  is  this 
that  Keats  alludes  to  in  his  '‘Ode  to  Psyche” : 

“O  latest  born  and  loveliest  vision  far 
Of  all  Olympus’  faded  hierarchy! 

Fairer  than  Phoebe’s  sapphire-regioned  star 
Or  Vesper,  amorous  glow-worm  of  the  sky; 

Fairer  than  these,  though  temple  thou  hast  none, 

Nor  altar  heaped  with  flowers ; 

Nor  virgin  choir  to  make  delicious  moan 
Upon  the  midnight  hours; 

No  voice,  no  lute,  no  pipe,  no  incense  sweet, 

From  chain-swung  censor  teeming; 

No  shrine,  no  grove,  no  oracle,  no  heat 
Of  pale-mouthed  prophet  dreaming” 

In  Moore's  “Summer  Fete”  a  fancy  ball  is  described, 
in  which  one  of  the  characters  personated  is  Psyche — 

“  .  .  .  not  in  dark  disguise  to-night 

Hath  our  young  heroine  veiled  her  light; — 

For  see,  she  walks  the  earth,  Love’s  own. 

His  wedded  bride,  by  holiest  vow 
Pledged  in  Olympus,  and  made  known 
To  mortals  by  the  type  which  now 
Hangs  glittering  on  her  snowy  brow. 

That  butterfly,  mysterious  trinket, 

Which  means  the  soul,  (though  few  would  think  it,) 

And  sparkling  thus  on  brow  so  white 
Tells  us  we’ve  Psyche  here  to-night.” 


CHAPTER  XII 

CADMUS — THE  MYRMIDONS 

Jupiter,  under  the  disguise  of  a  bull,  had  carried 
away  Europa,  the  daughter  of  Agenor,  king  of  Phoe¬ 
nicia.  Agenor  commanded  his  son  Cadmus  to  go  in 
search  of  his  sister,  and  not  to  return  without  her. 
Cadmus  went  and  sought  long  and  far  for  his  sister, 


92 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


but  could  not  find  her,  and  not  daring  to  return  un¬ 
successful,  consulted  the  oracle  of  Apollo  to  know 
what  country  he  should  settle  in.  The  oracle  informed 
him  that  he  should  find  a  cow  in  the  field,  and  should 
follow  her  wherever  she  might  wander,  and  where  she 
stopped,  should  build  a  city  and  call  it  Thebes.  Cad¬ 
mus  had  hardly  left  the  Castalian  cave,  from  which 
the  oracle  was  delivered,  when  he  saw  a  young  cow 
slowly  walking  before  him.  He  followed  her  close,  of¬ 
fering  at  the  same  time  his  prayers  to  Phoebus.  The 
cow  went  on  till  she  passed  the  shallow  channel  of 
Cephisus  and  came  out  into  the  plain  of  Panope.  There 
she  stood  still,  and  raising  her  broad  forehead  to  the 
sky,  filled  the  air  with  her  lowings.  Cadmus  gave 
thanks,  and  stooping  down  kissed  the  foreign  soil,  then 
lifting  his  eyes,  greeted  the  surrounding  mountains. 
Wishing  to  offer  a  sacrifice  to  Jupiter,  he  sent  his  serv¬ 
ants  to  seek  pure  water  for  a  libation.  Near  by  there 
stood  an  ancient  grove  which  had  never  been  profaned 
by  the  axe,  in  the  midst  of  which  was  a  cave,  thick  cov¬ 
ered  with  the  growth  of  bushes,  its  roof  forming  a  low 
arch,  from  beneath  which  burst  forth  a  fountain  of 
purest  water.  In  the  cave  lurked  a  horrid  serpent  with 
a  crested  head  and  scales  glittering  like  gold.  His  eyes 
shone  like  fire,  his  body  was  swollen  with  venom,  he 
vibrated  a  triple  tongue,  and  showed  a  triple  row  of 
teeth.  No  sooner  had  the  Tyrians  dipped  their  pitchers 
in  the  fountain,  and  the  in-gushing  waters  made  a  sound, ^ 
than  the  glittering  serpent  raised  his  head  out  of  the 
cave  and  uttered  a  fearful  hiss.  The  vessels  fell  from 
their  hands,  the  blood  left  their  cheeks,  they  trembled 
in  every  limb.  The  serpent,  twisting  his  scaly  body 
in  a  huge  coil,  raised  his  head  so  as  to  overtop  the  tall¬ 
est  trees,  and  while  the  Tyrians  from  terror  could 
neither  fight  nor  fly,  slew  some  with  his  fangs,  others 
in  his  folds,  and  others  with  his  poisonous  breath. 

Cadmus,  having  waited  for  the  return  of  his  men 
till  midday,  went  in  search  of  them.  His  covering  was 
a  lion’s  hide,  and  besides  his  javelin  he  carried  in  his 
hand  a  lance,  and  in  his  breast  a  bold  heart,  a  surer 
reliance  than  either.  When  he  entered  the  wood,  and 


CADMUS 


93 


saw  the  lifeless  bodies  of  his  men,  and  the  monster  with 
his  bloody  jaws,  he  exclaimed,  “O  faithful  friends,  I 
will  avenge  you,  or  share  your  death.”  So  saying  he 
lifted  a  huge  stone  and  threw  it  with  all  his  force  at 
the  serpent.  Such  a  block  would  have  shaken  the  wall 
of  a  fortress,  but  it  made  no  impression  on  the  monster. 
Cadmus  next  threw  his  javelin,  which  met  with  better 
success,  for  it  penetrated  the  serpent’s  scales,  and  pierced 
through  to  his  entrails.  Fierce  with  pain,  the  monster 
turned  back  his  head  to  view  the  wound,  and  attempted 
to  draw  out  the  weapon  with  his  mouth,  but  broke  it  off, 
leaving  the  iron  point  rankling  in  his  flesh.  His  neck 
swelled  with  rage,  bloody  foam  covered  his  jaws,  and 
the  breath  of  his  nostrils  poisoned  the  air  around.  Now 
he  twisted  himself  into  a  circle,  then  stretched  himself 
out  on  the  ground  like  the  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree.  As 
he  moved  onward,  Cadmus  retreated  before  him,  hold¬ 
ing  his  spear  opposite  to  the  monster’s  opened  jaws. 
The  serpent  snapped  at  the  weapon  and  attempted  to 
bite  its  iron  point.  At  last  Cadmus,  watching  his  chance, 
thrust  the  spear  at  a  moment  when  the  animal’s  head 
thrown  back  came  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  and  so 
succeeded  in  pinning  him  to  its  side.  His  weight  bent 
the  tree  as  he  struggled  in  the  agonies  of  death. 

While  Cadmus  stood  over  his  conquered  foe,  contem¬ 
plating  its  vast  size,  a  voice  was  heard  (from  whence 
he  knew  not,  but  he  heard  it  distinctly)  commanding 
him  to  take  the  dragon’s  teeth  and  sow  them  in  the 
earth.  He  obeyed.  He  made  a  furrow  in  the  ground, 
and  planted  the  teeth,  destined  to  produce  a  crop  of 
men.  Scarce  had  he  done  so  when  the  clods  began  to 
move,  and  the  points  of  spears  to  appear  above  the  sur¬ 
face.  Next  helmets  with  their  nodding  plumes  came 
up,  and  next  the  shoulders  and  breasts  and  limbs  of  men 
with  weapons,  and  in  time  a  harvest  of  armed  warriors. 
Cadmus,  alarmed,  prepared  to  encounter  a  new  enemy, 
but  one  of  them  said  to  him,  “Meddle  not  with  our 
civil  war.”  With  that  he  who  had  spoken  smote  one 
of  his  earth-born  brothers  with  a  sword,  and  he  himself 
fell  pierced  with  an  arrow  from  another.  The  latter 
fell  victim  to  a  fourth,  and  in  like  manner  the  whole 


94 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


crowd  dealt  with  each  other  till  all  fell,  slain  with  mu¬ 
tual  wounds,  except  five  survivors.  One  of  these  cast 
away  his  weapons  and  said,  “Brothers,  let  us  live  in 
peace!”  These  five  joined  with  Cadmus  in  building  his 
city,  to  which  they  gave  the  name  of  Thebes. 

Cadmus  obtained  in  marriage  Harmonia,  the  daughter 
of  Venus.  The  gods  left  Olympus  to  honor  the  occa¬ 
sion  with  their  presence,  and  Vulcan  presented  the  bride 
with  a  necklace  of  surpassing  brilliancy,  his  own  work¬ 
manship.  But  a  fatality  hung  over  the  family  of  Cad¬ 
mus  in  consequence  of  his  killing  the  serpent  sacred  to 
Mars.  Semele  and  Ino,  his  daughters,  and  Actseon  and 
Pentheus,  his  grandchildren,  all  perished  unhappily,  and 
Cadmus  and  Harmonia  quitted  Thebes,  now  grown 
odious  to  them,  and  emigrated  to  the  country  of  the 
Enchelians,  who  received  them  with  honor  and  made 
Cadmus  their  king.  But  the  misfortunes  of  their  chil¬ 
dren  still  weighed  upon  their  minds ;  and  one  day  Cad¬ 
mus  exclaimed,  “If  a  serpent’s  life  is  so  dear  to  the 
gods,  I  would  I  were  myself  a  serpent.”  No  sooner 
had  he  uttered  the  words  than  he  began  to  change  his 
form.  Harmonia  beheld  it  and  prayed  to  the  gods  to 
let  her  share  his  fate.  Both  became  serpents.  They 
live  in  the  woods,  but  mindful  of  their  origin,  they  neither 
avoid  the  presence  of  man  nor  do  they  ever  injure  any 
one. 

There  is  a  tradition  that  Cadmus  introduced  into 
Greece  the  letters  ©f  the  alphabet  which  were  invented 
by  the  Phoenicians.  This  is  alluded  to  by  Byron,  where, 
addressing  the  modern  Greeks,  he  says : 

“You  have  the  letters  Cadmus  gave, 

Think  you  he  meant  them  for  a  slave?” 

Milton,  describing  the  serpent  which  tempted  Eve, 
is  reminded  of  the  serpents  of  the  classical  stories  and 
says : 

.  .  .  “ — pleasing  was  his  shape, 

And  lovely :  never  since  of  serpent  kind 
Lovelier;  not  those  that  in  Illyria  changed 
Hermione  and  Cadmus,  nor  the  god 
In  Epidaurus.” 


THE  MYRMIDONS 


95 


For  an  explanation  of  the  last  allusion,  see  Oracle 
of  Hisculapius,  p.  298. 

THE  MYRMIDONS 

The  Myrmidons  were  the  soldiers  of  Achilles,  in  the 
Trojan  war.  From  them  all  zealous  and  unscrupulous 
followers  of  a  political  chief  are  called  by  that  name, 
down  to  this  day.  But  the  origin  of  the  Myrmidons 
would  not  give  one  the  idea  of  a  fierce  and  bloody  race, 
but  rather  of  a  laborious  and  peaceful  one. 

Cephalus,  king  of  Athens,  arrived  in  the  island  of 
2Egina  to  seek  assistance  of  his  old  friend  and  ally 
yEacus,  the  kirg,  in  his  war  with  Minos,  king  of  Crete. 
Cephalus  was  most  kindly  received,  and  the  desired  as¬ 
sistance  readily  promised.  “I  have  people  enough,”  said 
yEacus,  “to  protect  myself  and  spare  you  such  a  force 
as  you  need.”  “I  rejoice  to  see  it,”  replied  Cephalus, 
“and  my  wonder  has  been  raised,  I  confess,  to  find 
such  a  host  of  youths  as  I  see  around  me,  all  apparently 
of  about  the  same  age.  Yet  there  are  many  individuals 
whom  I  previously  knew,  that  I  look  for  now  in  vain. 
What  has  become  of  them?”  YEacus  groaned,  and  re¬ 
plied  with  a  voice  of  sadness,  “I  have  been  intending 
to  tell  you,  and  will  now  do  so,  without  more  delay, 
that  you  may  see  how  from  the  saddest  beginning  a 
happy  result  sometimes  flows.  Those  whom  you  for¬ 
merly  knew  are  now  dust  and  ashes !  A  plague  sent 
by  angry  Juno  devastate!  the  land.  She  hated  it  be¬ 
cause  it  bore  the  name  of  one  of  her  husband’s  female 
favorites.  While  the  disease  appeared  to  spring  from 
natural  causes  we  resisted  it,  as  we  best  might,  by  nat¬ 
ural  remedies;  but  it  soon  appeared  that  the  pestilence 
was  too  powerful  for  our  efforts,  and  we  yielded.  At 
the  beginning  the  sky  seemed  to  settle  down  upon  the 
earth,  and  thick  clouds  shut  in  the  heated  air.  For  four 
months  together  a  deadly  south  wind  prevailed.  The 
disorder  affected  the  wells  and  springs;  thousands  of 
snakes  crept  over  the  land  and  shed  their  poison  in 
the  fountains.  The  force  of  the  disease  was  first  spent 
on  the  lower  animals — dogs,  cattle,  sheep,  and  birds. 
The  luckless  ploughman  wondered  to  see  his  oxen  fall 


96 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


in  the  midst  of  their  work,  and  lie  helpless  in  the  un¬ 
finished  furrow.  The  wool  fell  from  the  bleating  sheep, 
and  their  bodies  pined  away.  The  horse,  once  foremost 
in  the  race,  contested  the  palm  no  more,  but  groaned 
at  his  stall  and  died  an  inglorious  death.  The  wild 
boar  forgot  his  rage,  the  stag  his  swiftness,  the  bears 
no  longer  attacked  the  herds.  Everything  languished; 
dead  bodies  lay  in  the  roads,  the  fields,  and  the  woods; 
the  air  was  poisoned  by  them.  I  tell  you  what  is  hardly 
credible,  but  neither  dogs  nor  birds  would  touch  them, 
nor  starving  wolves.  Their  decay  spread  the  infection. 
Next  the  disease  attacked  the  country  people,  and  then 
the  dwellers  in  the  city.  At  first  the  cheek  was  flushed, 
and  the  breath  drawn  with  difficulty.  The  tongue  grew 
rough  and  swelled,  and  the  dry  mouth  stood  open  with 
its  veins  enlarged  and  gasped  for  the  air.  Men  could 
not  bear  the  heat  of  their  clothes  or  their  beds,  but 
preferred  to  lie  on  the  bare  ground;  and  the  ground 
did  not  cool  them,  but,  on  the  contrary,  they  heated  the 
spot  where  they  lay.  Nor  could  the  physicians  help, 
for  the  disease  attacked  them  also,  and  the  contact  of 
the  sick  gave  them  infection,  so  that  the  most  faithful 
were  the  first  victims.  At  last  all  hope  of  relief  van¬ 
ished,  and  men  learned  to  look  upon  death  as  the  only 
deliverer  from  disease.  Then  they  gave  way  to  every 
inclination,  and  cared  not  to  ask  what  was  expedient, 
for  nothing  was  expedient.  All  restraint  laid  aside,  they 
crowded  around  the  wells  and  fountains  and  drank  till 
they  died,  without  quenching  thirst.  Many  had  not 
strength  to  get  away  from  the  water,  but  died  in  the 
midst  of  the  stream,  and  others  would  drink  of  it  not¬ 
withstanding.  Such  was  their  weariness  of  their  sick 
beds  that  some  would  creep  forth,  and  if  not  strong 
enough  to  stand,  would  die  on  the  ground.  They 
seemed  to  hate  their  friends,  and  got  away  from  their 
homes,  as  if,  not  knowing  the  cause  of  their  sickness, 
they  charged  it  on  the  place  of  their  abode.  Some  were 
seen  tottering  along  the  road,  as  long  as  they  could  stand, 
while  others  sank  on  the  earth,  and  turned  their  dying 
eyes  around  to  take  a  last  look,  then  closed  them  in 
death. 


THE  MYRMIDONS 


97 


“What  heart  had  I  left  me,  during  all  this,  or  what 
ought  I  to  have  had,  except  to  hate  life  and  wish  to 
be  with  my  dead  subjects?  On  all  sides  lay  my  people 
strewn  like  over-ripened  apples  beneath  the  tree,  or 
acorns  under  the  storm-shaken  oak.  You  see  yonder 
a  temple  on  the  height.  It  is  sacred  to  Jupiter.  O  how 
many  offered  prayers  there,  husbands  for  wives,  fathers 
for  sons,  and  died  in  the  very  act  of  supplication !  How 
often,  while  the  priest  made  ready  for  sacrifice,  the  vic¬ 
tim  fell,  struck  down  by  disease  without  waiting  for 
the  blow !  At  length  all  reverence  for  sacred  things  was 
lost.  Bodies  were  thrown  out  unburied,  wood  was 
wanting  for  funeral  piles,  men  fought  with  one  another 
for  the  possession  of  them.  Finally  there  were  none  left 
to  mourn ;  sons  and  husbands,  old  men  and  youths,  per¬ 
ished  alike  unlamented. 

“Standing  before  the  altar  I  raised  my  eyes  to  heaven. 
‘O  Jupiter/  I  said,  ‘if  thou  art  indeed  my  father,  and 
art  not  ashamed  of  thy  offspring,  give  me  back  my 
people,  or  take  me  also  away !’  At  these  words  a  clap 
of  thunder  was  heard.  T  accept  the  omen/  I  cried; 
‘O  may  it  be  a  sign  of  a  favorable  disposition  towards 
me !’  By  chance  there  grew  by  the  place  where  I  stood 
an  oak  with  wide-spreading  branches,  sacred  to  Jupiter. 
I  observed  a  troop  of  ants  busy  with  their  labor,  carry¬ 
ing  minute  grains  in  their  mouths  and  following  one 
another  in  a  line  up  the  trunk  of  the  tree.  Observing 
their  numbers  with  admiration,  I  said,  ‘Give  rue,  O 
father,  citizens  as  numerous  as  these,  and  replenish  my 
empty  city/  The  tree  shook  and  gave  a  rustling  sound 
with  its  branches,  though  no  wind  agitated  them.  I 
trembled  in  everj^  limb,  yet  I  kissed  the  earth  and  the 
tree.  I  would  not  confess  to  myself  that  I  hoped,  yet 
I  did  hope.  Night  came  on  and  sleep  took  possession 
of  my  frame  oppressed  with  cares.  The  tree  stood  be¬ 
fore  me  in  my  dreams,  with  its  numerous  branches  all 
covered  with  living,  moving  creatures.  It  seemed  to 
shake  its  limbs  and  throw  down  over  the  ground  a  mul¬ 
titude  of  those  industrious  grain-gathering  animals, 
which  appeared  to  gain  in  size,  and  grow  larger  and 
larger,  and  by  and  by  to  stand  erect,  lay  aside  their 


98 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


superfluous  legs  and  their  black  color,  and  finally  to 
assume  the  human  form.  Then  I  awoke,  and  my  first 
impulse  was  to  chide  the  gods  who  had  robbed  me  of 
a  sweet  vision  and  given  me  no  reality  in  its  place. 
Being  still  in  the  temple,  my  attention  was  caught  by 
the  sound  of  many  voices  without;  a  sound  of  late  un¬ 
usual  to  my  ears.  While  I  began  to  think  I  was  yet 
dreaming,  Telamon,  my  son,  throwing  open  the  temple 
gates,  exclaimed:  ‘Father,  approach,  and  behold  things 
surpassing  even  your  hopes !’  I  went  forth ;  I  saw  a 
multitude  of  men,  such  as  I  had  seen  in  my  dream,  and 
they  were  passing  in  procession  in  the  same  manner. 
While  I  gazed  with  wonder  and  delight  they  approached 
and  kneeling  hailed  me  as  their  king.  I  paid  my  vows 
to  Jove,  and  proceeded  to  allot  the  vacant  city  to  the 
new-born  race,  and  to  parcel  out  the  fields  among  them. 
I  called  them  Myrmidons,  from  the  ant  (myrmex)  from 
which  they  sprang.  You  have  seen  these  persons;  their 
dispositions  resemble  those  which  they  had  in  their  for¬ 
mer  shape.  They  are  a  diligent  and  industrious  race, 
eager  to  gain,  and  tenacious  of  their  gains.  Among 
them  you  may  recruit  your  forces.  They  will  follow 
you  to  the  war,  young  in  years  and  bold  in  heart/'’ 
This  description  of  the  plague  is  copied  by  Ovid  from 
the  account  which  Thucydides,  the  Greek  historian,  gives 
of  the  plague  of  Athens.  The  historian  drew  from 
life,  and  all  the  poets  and  writers  of  fiction  since  his 
day,  when  they  have  had  occasion  to  describe  a  simi¬ 
lar  scene,  have  borrowed  their  details  from  him*. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

NISUS  AND  SCYLLA — ECHO  AND  NARCISSUS — CLYTIE — 

HERO  AND  LEANDER 

NISUS  AND  SCYLLA 

Minos,  king  of  Crete,  made  war  upon  Megara.  Nisus 
was  king  of  Megara,  and  Scylla  was  his  daughter.  The 


NISUS  AND  SCYLLA 


99 


siege  had  now  lasted  six  months  and  the  city  still  held 
out,  for  it  was  decreed  by  fate  that  it  should  not  be 
taken  so  long  as  a  certain  purple  lock,  which  glittered 
among  the  hair  of  King  Nisus,  remained  on  his  head. 
There  was  a  tower  on  the  city  walls,  which  overlooked 
the  plain  where  Minos  and  his  army  were  encamped. 
To  this  tower  Scylla  used  to  repair,  and  look  abroad 
over  the  tents  of  the  hostile  army.  The  siege  had  lasted 
so  long  that  she  had  learned  to  distinguish  the  persons 
of  the  leaders.  Minos,  in  particular,  excited  her  ad¬ 
miration.  Arrayed  in  his  helmet,  and  bearing  his  shield, 
she  admired  his  graceful  deportment;  if  he  threw  his 
javelin  skill  seemed  combined  with  force  in  the  dis¬ 
charge;  if  he  drew  his  bow  Apollo  himself  could  not 
have  done  it  more  gracefully.  But  when  he  laid  aside 
his  helmet,  and  in  his  purple  robes  bestrode  his  white 
horse  with  its  gay  caparisons,  and  reined  in  its  foam¬ 
ing  mouth,  the  daughter  of  Nisus  was  hardly  mistress 
of  herself ;  she  was  almost  frantic  with  admiration. 
She  envied  the  weapon  that  he  grasped,  the  reins  that 
he  held.  She  felt  as  if  she  could,  if  it  were  possible, 
go  to  him  through  the  hostile  ranks;  she  felt  an  im¬ 
pulse  to  cast  herself  down  from  the  tower  into  the  midst 
of  his  camp,  or  to  open  the  gates  to  him,  or  to  do  any¬ 
thing  else,  so  only  it  might  gratify  Minos.  As  she  sat 
in  the  tower,  she  talked  thus  with  herself :  “I  know 
not  whether  to  rejoice  or  grieve  at  this  sad  war.  I 
grieve  that  Minos  is  our  enemy;  but  I  rejoice  at  any 
cause  that  brings  him  to  my  sight.  Perhaps  he  would 
be  willing  to  grant  us  peace,  and  receive  me  as  a 
hostage.  I  would  fly  down,  if  I  could,  and  alight  in 
his  camp,  and  tell  him  that  we  yield  ourselves  to  his 
mercy.  But  then,  to  betray  my  father !  No !  rather 
would  I  never  see  Minos  again.  And  yet  no  doubt  it 
is  sometimes  the  best  thing  for  a  city  to  be  conquered, 
when  the  conqueror  is  clement  and  generous.  Minos 
certainly  has  right  on  his  side.  I  think  we  shall  be 
conquered;  and  if  that  must  be  the  end  of  it,  why 
should  not  love  unbar  the  gates  to  him,  instead  of 
leaving  it  to  be  done  by  war?  Better  spare  delay  and 
slaughter  if  we  can.  And  O  if  any  one  should  wound 


100  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


or  kill  Minos !  No  one  surely  would  have  the  heart 
to  do  it;  yet  ignorantly,  not  knowing  him,  one  might. 
I  will,  I  will  surrender  myself  to  him,  with  my  coun¬ 
try  as  a  dowry,  and  so  put  an  end  to  the  war.  But 
how?  The  gates  are  guarded,  and  my  father  keeps 
the  keys;  he  only  stands  in  my  way.  O  that  it  might 
please  the  gods  to  take  him  away!  But  why  ask  the 
gods  to  do  it?  Another  woman,  loving  as  I  do,  would 
remove  with  her  own  hands  whatever  stood  in  the  way 
of  her  love.  And  can  any  other  woman  dare  more 
than  I?  I  would  encounter  fire  and  sword  to  gain 
my  object;  but  here  there  is  no  need  of  fire  and  sword. 
I  only  need  my  father’s  purple  lock.  More  precious 
than  gold  to  me,  that  will  give  me  all  I  wish.” 

While  she  thus  reasoned  night  came  on,  and  soon 
the  whole  palace  was  buried  in  sleep.  She  entered 
her  father’s  bedchamber  and  cut  off  the  fatal  lock; 
then  passed  out  of  the  city  and  entered  the  enemy’s 
camp.  She  demanded  to  be  led  to  the  king,  and  thus 
addressed  him:  “I  am  Scylla,  the  daughter  of  Nisus. 
I  surrender  to  you  my  country  and  my  father’s  house. 
I  ask  no  reward  but  yourself ;  for  love  of  you  I  have 
done  it.  See  here  the  purple  lock!  With  this  I  give 
you  my  father  and  his  kingdom.”  She  held  out  her 
hand  with  the  fatal  spoil.  Minos  shrunk  back  and  re¬ 
fused  to  touch  it.  “The  gods  destroy  thee,  infamous 
woman,”  he  exclaimed ;  “disgrace  of  our  time !  May 
neither  earth  nor  sea  yield  thee  a  resting-place !  Surely, 
my  Crete,  where  Jove  himself  was  cradled,  shall  not 
be  polluted  with  such  a  monster!”  Thus  he  said,  and 
gave  orders  that  equitable  terms  should  be  allowed  to 
the  conquered  city,  and  that  the  fleet  should  immediately 
sail  from  the  island. 

Scylla  was  frantic.  “Ungrateful  man,”  she  exclaimed, 
“is  it  thus  you  leave  me? — me  who  have  given  you 
victory, — who  have  sacrificed  for  you  parent  and  coun¬ 
try  !  I  am  guilty,  I  confess,  and  deserve  to  die,  but 
not  by  your  hand.”  As  the  ships  left  the  shore,  she 
leaped  into  the  water,  and  seizing  the  rudder  of  the 
one  which  carried  Minos,  she  was  borne  along  an  un¬ 
welcome  companion  of  their  course.  A  sea-eagle  soar- 


ECHO  AND  NARCISSUS 


101 


ing  aloft, — it  was  her  father  who  had  been  changed 
into  that  form, — seeing  her,  pounced  down  upon  her, 
and  struck  her  with  his  beak  and  claws.  In  terror 
she  let  go  the  ship  and  would  have  fallen  into  the 
water,  but  some  pitying  deity  changed  her  into  a  bird. 
The  sea-eagle  still  cherishes  the  old  animosity;  and 
whenever  he  espies  her  in  his  lofty  flight  you  may  see 
him  dart  down  upon  her,  with  beak  and  claws,  to  take 
vengeance  for  the  ancient  crime. 

ECHO  AND  NARCISSUS 

Echo  was  a  beautiful  nymph,  fond  of  the  woods  and 
hills,  where  she  devoted  herself  to  woodland  sports. 
She  was  a  favorite  of  Diana,  and  attended  her  in  the 
chase.  But  Echo  had  one  failing;  she  was  fond  of 
talking,  and  whether  in  chat  or  argument,  would  have 
the  last  word.  One  day  Juno  was  seeking  her  husband, 
who,  she  had  reason  to  fear,  was  amusing  himself 
among  the  nymphs.  Echo  by  her  talk  contrived  to  de¬ 
tain  the  goddess  till  the  nymphs  made  their  escape. 
When  Juno  discovered  it,  she  passed  sentence  upon  Echo 
in  these  words:  “You  shall  forfeit  the  use  of  that 
tongue  with  which  you  have  cheated  me,  except  for 
that  one  purpose  you  are  so  fond  of — reply.  You 
shall  still  have  the  last  word,  but  no  power  to  speak 
first.” 

This  nymph  saw  Narcissus,  a  beautiful  youth,  as  he 
pursued  the  chase  upon  the  mountains.  She  loved  him, 
and  followed  his  footsteps.  O  how  she  longed  to  ad¬ 
dress  him  in  the  softest  accents,  and  win  him  to  con¬ 
verse!  but  it  was  not  in  her  power.  She  waited  with 
impatience  for  him  to  speak  first,  and  had  her  answer 
ready.  One  day  the  youth,  being  separated  from  his 
companions,  shouted  aloud,  “Who’s  here?”  Echo  re¬ 
plied,  “Here.”  Narcissus  looked  around,  but  seeing  no 
one  called  out,  “Come.”  Echo  answered,  “Come.”  As 
no  one  came,  Narcissus  called  again,  “Why  do  you 
shun  me?”  Echo  asked  the  same  question.  “Let  us 
join  one  another,”  said  the  youth.  The  maid  an¬ 
swered  with  all  her  heart  in  the  same  words,  and  hast- 


102  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


ened  to  the  spot,  ready  to  throw  her  arms  about  his 
neck.  He  started  back,  exclaiming,  “Hands  off!  I 
would  rather  die  than  you  should  have  me !”  “Have 
me,”  said  she;  but  it  was  all  in  vain.  He  left  her, 
and  she  went  to  hide  her  blushes  in  the  recesses  of 
the  woods.  From  that  time  forth  she  lived  in  caves 
and  among  mountain  cliffs.  Her  form  faded  with  grief, 
till  at  last  all  her  flesh  shrank  away.  Her  bones  were 
changed  into  rocks  and  there  was  nothing  left  of  her 
but  her  voice.  With  that  she  is  still  ready  to  reply  to 
any  one  who  calls  her,  and  keeps  up  her  old  habit  of 
having  the  last  word. 

Narcissus’s  cruelty  in  this  case  was  not  the  only  in¬ 
stance.  He  shunned  all  the  rest  of  the  nymphs,  as 
he  had  done  poor  Echo.  One  day  a  maiden  who  had 
in  vain  endeavored  to  attract  him  uttered  a  prayer  that 
he  might  some  time  or  other  feel  what  it  was  to  love 
and  meet  no  return  of  affection.  The  avenging  god¬ 
dess  heard  and  granted  the  prayer. 

There  was  a  clear  fountain,  with  water  like  silver, 
to  which  the  shepherds  never  drove  their  flocks,  nor 
the  mountain  goats  resorted,  nor  any  of  the  beasts  of 
the  forest;  neither  was  it  defaced  with  fallen  leaves  or 
branches;  but  the  grass  grew  fresh  around  it,  and  the 
rocks  sheltered  it  from  the  sun.  Hither  came  one  day 
the  youth,  fatigued  with  hunting,  heated  and  thirsty. 
He  stooped  down  to  drink,  and  saw  his  own  image 
in  the  water;  he  thought  it  was  some  beautiful  water- 
spirit  living  in  the  fountain.  He  stood  gazing  with 
admiration  at  those  bright  eyes,  those  locks  curled  like 
the  locks  of  Bacchus  or  Apollo,  the  rounded  cheeks, 
the  ivory  neck,  the  parted  lips,  and  the  glow  of  health 
and  exercise  over  all.  He  fell  in  love  with  himself. 
He  brought  his  lips  near  to  take  a  kiss;  he  plunged  his 
arms  in  to  embrace  the  beloved  object.  It  fled  at  the 
touch,  but  returned  again  after  a  moment  and  renewed 
the  fascination.  He  could  not  tear  himself  away;  he 
lost  all  thought  of  food  or  rest,  while  he  hovered  over 
the  brink  of  the  fountain  gazing  upon  his  own  image. 
He  talked  with  the  supposed  spirit:  “Why,  beautiful 
being,  do  you  shun  me?  Surely  my  face  is  not  one 


ECHO  AND  NARCISSUS 


103 


to  repel  you.  The  nymphs  love  me,  and  you  your¬ 
self  look  not  indifferent  upon  me.  When  I  stretch 
forth  my  arms  you  do  the  same;  and  you  smile  upon 
me  and  answer  my  beckonings  with  the  like.”  His  tears 
fell  into  the  water  and  disturbed  the  image.  As  he 
saw  it  depart,  he  exclaimed,  “Stay,  I  entreat  you !  Let 
me  at  least  gaze  upon  you,  if  I  may  not  touch  you.” 
With  this,  and  much  more  of  the  same  kind,  he  cher¬ 
ished  the  flame  that  consumed  him,  so  that  by  degrees 
he  lost  his  color,  his  vigor,  and  the  beauty  which  for¬ 
merly  had  so  charmed  the  nymph  Echo.  She  kept  near 
him,  however,  and  when  he  exclaimed,  “Alas !  alas !” 
she  answered  him  with  the  same  words.  He  pined 
away  and  died ;  and  when  his  shade  passed  the  Stygian 
river,  it  leaned  over  the  boat  to  catch  a  look  of  itself 
in  the  waters.  The  nymphs  mourned  for  him,  espe¬ 
cially  the  water-nymphs;  and  when  they  smote  their 
breasts  Echo  smote  hers  also.  They  prepared  a  funeral 
pile  and  would  have  burned  the  body,  but  it  was  no¬ 
where  to  be  found;  but  in  its  place  a  flower,  purple 
within,  and  surrounded  with  white  leaves,  which  bears 
the  name  and  preserves  the  memory  of  Narcissus. 

Milton  alludes  to  the  story  of  Echo  and  Narcissus  in 
the  Lady’s  song  in  “Comus.”  She  is  seeking  her 
brothers  in  the  forest,  and  sings  to  attract  their  at¬ 
tention  : 

“Sweet  Echo,  sweetest  nymph,  that  liv’st  unseen 
Within  thy  aery  shell 
By  slow  Meander’s  margent  green, 

And  in  the  violet-embroidered  vale, 

Where  the  love-lorn  nightingale 
Nightly  to  thee  her  sad  song  moumeth  well; 

Canst  thou  not  tell  me  of  a  gentle  pair 
That  likest  thy  Narcissus  are? 

O,  if  thou  have 

Hid  them  in  some  flowery  cave, 

Tell  me  but  where, 

Sweet  queen  of  parly,  daughter  of  the  sphere, 

So  may’st  thou  be  translated  to  the  skies, 

And  give  resounding  grace  to  all  heaven’s  harmonies.” 

Milton  has  imitated  the  story  of  Narcissus  in  the 
account  which  he  makes  Eve  give  of  the  first  sight 
of  herself  reflected  in  the  fountain: 


104  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


“That  day  I  oft  remember  when  from  sleep 
I  first  awaked,  and  found  myself  reposed 
Under  a  shade  on  flowers,  much  wondering  where 
And  what  I  was,  whence  thither  brought,  and  how. 

Not  distant  far  from  thence  a  murmuring  sound 
Of  waters  issued  from  a  cave,  and  spread 
Into  a  liquid  plain,  then  stood  unmoved 
Pure  as  the  expanse  of  heaven;  I  thither  went 
With  unexperienced  thought,  and  laid  me  down 
On  the  green  bank,  to  look  into  the  clear 
Smooth  lake  that  to  me  seemed  another  sky. 

As  I  bent  down  to  look,  just  opposite 
A  shape  within  the  watery  gleam  appeared, 

Bending  to  look  on  me.  I  started  back; 

It  started  back;  but  pleased  I  soon  returned, 

Pleased  it  returned  as  soon  with  answering  looks 
Of  sympathy  and  love.  There  had  I  fixed 
Mine  eyes  till  now,  and  pined  wi  vain  desire, 

Had  not  a  voice  thus  warned  me :  ‘What  thou  seest, 

What  there  thou  seest,  fair  creature,  is  thyself ;’  ”  etc. 

— Paradise  Lost,  Book  IV. 

No  one  of  the  fables  of  antiquity  has  been  oftener 
alluded  to  by  the  poets  than  that  of  Narcissus.  Here 
are  two  epigrams  which  treat  it  in  different  ways.  The 
first  is  by  Goldsmith: 

“On  a  Beautiful  Youth,  struck  Blind  by  Lightning 

“Sure  ’twas  by  Providence  designed, 

Rather  in  pity  than  in  hate, 

That  he  should  be  like  Cupid  blind, 

To  save  him  from  Narcissus’  fate.” 

The  other  is  by  Cowper: 

“On  an  Ugly  Fellow 

“Beware,  my  friend,  of  crystal  brook 
Or  fountain,  lest  that  hideous  hook, 

Thy  nose,  thou  chance  to  see; 

Narcissus’  fate  would  then  be  thine, 

And  self-detested  thou  would’st  pine, 

As  self-enamoured  he.” 

CLYTIE 

Clytie  was  a  water-nymph  and  in  love  with  Apollo, 
who  made  her  no  return.  So  she  pined  away,  sitting 


HERO  AND  LEANDER 


105 


all  day  long  upon  the  cold  ground,  with  her  unbound 
tresses  streaming  over  her  shoulders.  Nine  days  she 
sat  and  tasted  neither  food  nor  drink,  her  own  tears 
and  the  chilly  dew  her  only  food.  She  gazed  on  the 
sun  when  he  rose,  and  as  he  passed  through  his  daily 
course  to  his  setting;  she  saw  no  other  object,  her  face 
turned  constantly  on  him.  At  last,  they  say,  her  limbs 
rooted  in  the  ground,  her  face  became  a  flower1  which 
turns  on  its  stem  so  as  always  to  face  the  sun  through¬ 
out  its  daily  course;  for  it  retains  to  that  extent  the 
feeling  of  the  nymph  from  whom  it  sprang. 

Hood,  in  his  “Flowers,”  thus  alludes  to  Clytie: 

“I  will  not  have  the  mad  Clytie, 

Whose  head  is  turned  by  the  sun; 

The  tulip  is  a  courtly  quean, 

Whom  therefore  I  will  shun ; 

The  cowslip  is  a  country  wench, 

The  violet  is  a  nun ; — 

But  I  will  woo  the  dainty  rose, 

The  queen  of  every  one.” 

The  sunflower  is  a  favorite  emblem  of  constancy. 
Thus  Moore  uses  it: 

“The  heart  that  has  truly  loved  never  forgets, 

But  as  truly  loves  on  to  the  close; 

As  the  sunflower  turns  on  her  god  when  he  sets 
The  same  look  that  she  turned  when  he  rose.” 


HERO  AND  LEANDER 

Leander  was  a  youth  of  Abydos,  a  town  of  the 
Asian  side  of  the  strait  which  separates  Asia  and  Eu¬ 
rope.  On  the  opposite  shore,  in  the  town  of  Sestos, 
lived  the  maiden  Hero,  a  priestess  of  Venus.  Leander 
loved  her,  and  used  to  swim  the  strait  nightly  to  enjoy 
the  company  of  his  mistress,  guided  by  a  torch  which 
she  reared  upon  the  tower  for  the  purpose.  But  one 
night  a  tempest  arose  apd  the  sea  was  rough ;  his 
strength  failed,  and  he  was  drowned.  The  waves  bore 
his  body  to  the  European  shore,  where  Hero  became 

1  The  sunflower. 


106  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


aware  of  his  death,  and  in  her  despair  cast  herself 
down  from  the  tower  into  the  sea  and  perished. 

The  following  sonnet  is  by  Keats : 

“On  a  Picture  of  Leander 

“Come  hither  all  sweet  maidens  soberly, 

Down  looking  aye,  and  with  a  chasten’d  light 
Hid  in  the  fringes  of  your  eyelids  white, 

And  meekly  let  your  fair  hands  joined  be. 

As  if  so  gentle  that  ye  could  not  see, 

Untouch’d,  a  victim  of  your  beauty  bright, 

Sinking  away  to  his  young  spirit’s  night, 

Sinking  bewilder’d  ’mid  the  dreary  sea. 

’T  is  young  Leander  toiling  to  his  death. 

Nigh  swooning  he  doth  purse  his  weary  lips 
For  Hero’s  cheek,  and  smiles  against  her  smile. 

O  horrid  dream !  see  how  his  body  dips 
Dead-heavy ;  ar-as  and  shoulders  gleam  awhile ; 

He’s  gone;  up  bubbles  all  his  amorous  breath!” 

The  story  of  Leander’s  swimming  the  Hellespont  was 
looked  upon  as  fabulous,  and  the  feat  considered 
impossible,  till  Lord  Byron  proved  its  possibility  by 
performing  it  himself.  In  the  “Bride  of  Abydos”  he 
says, 

“These  limbs  that  buoyant  wave  hath  borne.” 

The  distance  in  the  narrowest  part  is  almost  a  mile, 
and  there  is  a  constant  current  setting  out  from  the 
Sea  of  Marmora  into  the  Archipelago.  Since  Byron’s 
time  the  feat  has  been  achieved  by  others;  but  it  yet 
remains  a  test  of  strength  and  skill  in  the  art  of  swim¬ 
ming  sufficient  to  give  a  wide  and  lasting  celebrity  to 
any  one  of  our  readers  who  may  dare  to  make  the  at¬ 
tempt  and  succeed  in  accomplishing  it. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  second  canto  of  the  same  poem, 
Byron  thus  alludes  to  this  story : 

“The  winds  are  high  on  Helle’s  wave, 

As  on  that  night  of  stormiest  water, 

When  Love,  who  sent,  forgot  to  save 
The  young,  the  beautiful,  the  brave, 

The  lonely  hope  of  Sestos’  daughter. 


MINERVA 


107 


O,  when  alone  along  the  sky 
The  turret-torch  was  blazing  high, 

Though  rising  gale  and  breaking  foam, 

And  shrieking  sea-birds  warned  him  home; 
And  clouds  aloft  and  tides  below, 

With  signs  and  sounds  forbade  to  go, 

He  could  not  see,  he  would  not  hear 
Or  sound  or  sight  foreboding  fear. 

His  eye  but  saw  that  light  of  love, 

The  only  star  it  hailed  above; 

His  ear  but  rang  with  Hero’s  song, 

‘Ye  waves,  divide  not  lovers  long/ 

That  tale  is  old,  but  love  anew 

May  nerve  young  hearts  to  prove  as  true/, 


CHAPTER  XIV 

MINERVA — NIOBE 
MINERVA 

Minerva,  the  goddess  of  wisdom,  was  the  daughter 
of  Jupiter.  She  was  said  to  have  leaped  forth  from 
his  brain,  mature,  and  in  complete  armor.  She  presided 
over  the  useful  and  ornamental  arts,  both  those  of  men 
— such  as  agriculture  and  navigation — and  those  of 
women, — spinning,  weaving,  and  needlework.  She  was 
also  a  warlike  divinity;  but  it  was  defensive  war  only 
that  she  patronized,  and  she  had  no  sympathy  with 
Mars’s  savage  love  of  violence  and  bloodshed.  Athens 
was  her  chosen  seat,  her  own  city,  awarded  to  her  as  the 
prize  of  a  contest  with  Neptune,  who  also  aspired  to 
it.  The  tale  ran  that  in  the  reign  of  Cecrops,  the  first 
king  of  Athens,  the  two  deities  contended  for  the  pos¬ 
session  of  the  city.  The  gods  decreed  that  it  should 
be  awarded  to  that  one  who  produced  the  gift  most 
useful  to  mortals.  Neptune  gave  the  horse;  Minerva 
produced  the  olive.  The  gods  gave  judgment  that  the 
olive  was  the  more  useful  of  the  two,  and  awarded  the 
city  to  the  goddess ;  and  it  was  named  after  her,  Athens, 
her  name  in  Greek  being  Athene. 

There  was  another  contest,  in  which  a  mortal  dared 


108  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


to  come  in  competition  with  Minerva.  That  mortal  was 
Arachne,  a  maiden  who  had  attained  such  skill  in  the 
arts  of  weaving  and  embroidery  that  the  nymphs  them¬ 
selves  would  leave  their  groves  and  fountains  to  come 
and  gaze  upon  her  work.  It  was  not  only  beautiful 
when  it  was  done,  but  beautiful  also  in  the  doing.  To 
watch  her,  as  she  took  the  wool  in  its  rude  state  and 
formed  it  into  rolls,  or  separated  it  with  her  fingers 
and  carded  it  till  it  looked  as  light  and  soft  as  a  cloud, 
or  twirled  the  spindle  with  skilful  touch,  or  wove  the 
web,  or,  after  it  was  woven,  adorned  it  with  her  needle, 
one  would  have  said  that  Minerva  herself  had  taught 
her.  But  this  she  denied,  and  could  not  bear  to  be 
thought  a  pupil  even  of  a  goddess.  “Let  Minerva  try 
her  skill  with  mine,”  said  she;  “if  beaten  I  will  pay  the 
penalty.”  Minerva  heard  this  and  was  displeased.  She 
assumed  the  form  of  an  old  woman  and  went  and  gave 
Arachne  some  friendly  advice.  “I  have  had  much  ex¬ 
perience,”  said  she,  “and  I  hope  you  will  not  despise 
my  counsel.  Challenge  your  fellow-mortals  as  you  will, 
but  do  not  compete  with  a  goddess.  On  the  contrary, 
I  advise  you  to  ask  her  forgiveness  for  what  you  have 
said,  and  as  she  is  merciful  perhaps  she  will  pardon 
you.”  Arachne  stopped  her  spinning  and  looked  at  the 
old  dame  with  anger  in  her  countenance.  “Keep  your 
counsel,”  said  she,  “for  your  daughters  or  handmaids ; 
for  my  part  I  know  what  I  say,  and  I  stand  to  it.  I 
am  not  afraid  of  the  goddess;  let  her  try  her  skill, 
if  she  dare  venture.”  “She  comes,”  said  Minerva;  and 
dropping  her  disguise  stood  confessed.  The  nymphs 
bent  low  in  homage,  and  all  the  bystanders  paid  rever¬ 
ence.  Arachne  alone  was  unterrified.  She  blushed,  in¬ 
deed;  a  sudden  color  dyed  her  cheek,  and  then  she  grew 
pale.  But  she  stood  to  her  resolve,  and  with  a  foolish 
conceit  of  her  own  skill  rushed  on  her  fate.  Minerva 
forbore  no  longer  nor  interposed  any  further  advice. 
They  proceed  to  the  contest.  Each  takes  her  station 
and  attaches  the  web  to  the  beam.  Then  the  slender 
shuttle  is  passed  in  and  out  among  the  threads.  The 
reed  with  its  fine  teeth  strikes  up  the  woof  into  its 
place  and  compacts  the  web.  Both  work  with  speed; 


MINERVA 


109 


their  skilful  hands  move  rapidly,  and  the  excitement  of 
the  contest  makes  the  labor  light.  Wool  of  Tyrian  dye 
is  contrasted  with  that  of  other  colors,  shaded  off  into 
one  another  so  adroitly  that  the  joining  deceives  the  eye. 
Like  the  bow,  whose  long  arch  tinges  the  heavens,  formed 
by  sunbeams  reflected  from  the  shower,1  in  which,  where 
the  colors  meet  they  seem  as  one,  but  at  a  little  dis¬ 
tance  from  the  point  of  contact  are  wholly  different. 

Minerva  wrought  on  her  web  the  scene  of  her  con¬ 
test  with  Neptune.  Twelve  of  the  heavenly  powers  are 
represented,  Jupiter,  with  august  gravity,  sitting  in  the 
midst.  Neptune,  the  ruler  of  the  sea,  holds  his  trident, 
and  appears  to  have  just  smitten  the  earth,  from  which 
a  horse  has  leaped  forth.  Minerva  depicted  herself 
with  helmed  head,  her  iEgis  covering  her  breast.  Such 
was  the  central  circle ;  and  in  the  four  corners  were  rep¬ 
resented  incidents  illustrating  the  displeasure  of  the  gods 
at  such  presumptuous  mortals  as  had  dared  to  contend 
with  them.  These  were  meant  as  warnings  to  her  rival 
to  give  up  the  contest  before  it  was  too  late. 

Arachne  filled  her  web  with  subjects  designedly 
chosen  to  exhibit  the  failings  and  errors  of  the  gods. 
One  scene  represented  Leda  caressing  the  swan,  under 
which  form  Jupiter  had  disguised  himself;  and  another, 
Danae,  in  the  brazen  tower  in  which  her  father  had 
imprisoned  her,  but  where  the  god  effected  his  entrance 
in  the  form  of  a  golden  shower.  Still  another  depicted 
Europa  deceived  by  Jupiter  under  the  disguise  of  a 
bull.  Encouraged  by  the  tameness  of  the  animal  Europa 
ventured  to  mount  his  back,  whereupon  Jupiter  ad¬ 
vanced  into  the  sea  and  swam  with  her  to  Crete.  You 
would  have  thought  it  was  a  real  bull,  so  naturally  was 
it  wrought,  and  so  natural  the  water  in  which  it  swam. 
She  seemed  to  look  with  longing  eyes  back  upon  the 
shore  she  was  leaving,  and  to  call  to  her  companions  for 
help.  She  appeared  to  shudder  with  terror  at  the  sight 
of  the  heaving  waves,  and  to  draw  back  her  feet  from 
the  water. 

Arachne  filled  her  canvas  with  similar  subjects,  won- 

1  This  correct  description  of  the  rainbow  is  literally  translated  from 
Ovid. 


110  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


derfully  well  done,  but  strongly  marking  her  presump¬ 
tion  and  impiety.  Minerva  could  not  forbear  to  admire, 
yet  felt  indignant  at  the  insult.  She  struck  the  web  with 
her  shuttle  and  rent  it  in  pieces;  she  then  touched  the 
forehead  of  Arachne  and  made  her  feel  her  guilt  and 
shame.  She  could  not  endure  it  and  went  and  hanged 
herself.  Minerva  pitied  her  as  she  saw  her  suspended 
by  a  rope.  “Live,”  she  said,  “guilty  woman !  and  that 
you  may  preserve  the  memory  of  this  lesson,  continue 
to  hang,  both  you  and  your  descendants,  to  all  future 
times.”  She  sprinkled  her  with  the  juices  of  aconite, 
and  immediately  her  hair  came  off,  and  her  nose  and 
ears  likewise.  Her  form  shrank  up,  and  her  head  grew 
smaller  yet;  her  fingers  cleaved  to  her  side  and  served 
for  legs.  All  the  rest  of  her  is  body,  out  of  which  she 
spins  her  thread,  often  hanging  suspended  by  it,  in  the 
same  attitude  as  when  Minerva  touched  her  and  trans¬ 
formed  her  into  a  spider. 

Spenser  tells  the  story  of  Arachne  in  his  “Muiopot* 
mos,”  adhering  very  closely  to  his  master  Ovid,  but 
improving  upon  him  in  the  conclusion  of  the  story. 
The  two  stanzas  which  follow  tell  what  was  done  after 
the  goddess  had  depicted  her  creation  of  the  olive  tree: 

“Amongst  these  leaves  she  made  a  Butterfly, 

With  excellent  device  and  wondrous  slight, 

Fluttering  among  the  olives  wantonly, 

That  seemed  to  live,  so  like  it  was  in  sight; 

The  velvet  nap  which  on  his  wings  doth  lie, 

The  silken  down  with  which  his  back  is  dight, 

His  broad  outstretched  horns,  his  hairy  thighs, 

His  glorious  colors,  and  his  glistening  eyes.”1 

“Which  when  Arachne  saw,  as  overlaid 
And  mastered  with  workmanship  so  rare, 

She  stood  astonied  long,  ne  aught  gainsaid; 

And  with  fast-fixed  eyes  on  her  did  stare, 

And  by  her  silence,  sign  of  one  dismayed, 

The  victory  did  yield  her  as  her  share: 

Yet  did  she  inly  fret  and  felly  burn, 

And  all  her  blood  to  poisonous  rancor  turn.” 

'Sir  James  Mackintosh  says  of  this,  “Do  you  think  that  even  a  Chines* 
could  paint  the  gay  colors  of  a  butterfly  with  more  minute  exactness  than 
the  following  lines:  ‘The  velvet  nap,’  etc.?” — Life,  Vol.  II. »  246. 


NIOBE 


111 


And  so  the  metamorphosis  is  caused  by  Arachne’s  own 
mortification  and  vexation,  and  not  by  any  direct  act 
of  the  goddess.  ' 

The  following  specimen  of  old-fashioned  gallantry  is 
i by  Garrick: 

“Upon  a  Lady's  Embroidery 

“Arachne  once,  as  poets  tell, 

A  goddess  at  her  art  defied, 

And  soon  the  daring  mortal  fell 
The  hapless  victim  of  her  pride. 

“O,  then  beware  Arachne’s  fate; 

Be  prudent,  Chloe,  and  submit, 

For  you’ll  most  surely  meet  her  hate. 

Who  rival  both  her  art  and  wit.” 

Tennyson,  in  his  “Palace  of  Art,”  describing  the 
works  of  art  with  which  the  palace  was  adorned,  thus 
alludes  to  Europa: 

.  .  sweet  Europa’s  mantle  blew  unclasped 
From  off  her  shoulder,  backward  borne, 

From  one  hand  drooped  a  crocus,  one  hand  grasped 
The  mild  bull’s  golden  horn.” 

In  his  “Princess”  there  is  this  allusion  to  Danae: 

“Now  lies  the  earth  all  Danae  to  the  stars, 

And  all  thy  heart  lies  open  unto  me.” 


NIOBE 

The  fate  of  Arachne  was  noised  abroad  through  all 
the  country,  and  served  as  a  warning  to  all  presump¬ 
tuous  mortals  not  to  compare  themselves  with  the  divini¬ 
ties.  But  one,  and  she  a  matron  too,  failed  to  learn 
the  lesson  of  humility.  It  was  Niobe,  the  queen  of 
Thebes.  She  had  indeed  much  to  be  proud  of ;  but  it 
was  not  her  husband’s  fame,  nor  her  own  beauty,  nor 
their  great  descent,  nor  the  power  of  their  kingdom  that 
elated  her.  It  was  her  children;  and  truly  the  happiest 
of  mothers  would  Niobe  have  been  if  only  she  had  not 
claimed  to  be  so.  It  was  on  occasion  of  the  annual  cele- 


112  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


bration  in  honor  of  Latona  and  her  offspring,  Apollo 
and  Diana, — when  the  people  of  Thebes  were  assem¬ 
bled,  their  brows  crowned  with  laurel,  bearing  frankin¬ 
cense  to  the  altars  and  paying  their  vows, — that  Niobe 
appeared  among  the  crowd.  Her  attire  was  splendid  with 
gold  and  gems,  and  her  aspect  beautiful  as  the  face  of 
an  angry  woman  can  be.  She  stood  and  surveyed  the 
people  with  haughty  looks.  “What  folly/'  said  she,  “is 
this! — to  prefer  beings  whom  you  never  saw  to  those 
who  stand  before  your  eyes !  Why  should  Latona  be 
honored  with  worship,  and  none  be  paid  to  me?  My 
father  was  Tantalus,  who  was  received  as  a  guest  at  the 
table  of  the  gods;  my  mother  was  a  goddess.  My  hus¬ 
band  built  and  rules  this  city,  Thebes,  and  Phrygia  is 
my  paternal  inheritance.  Wherever  I  turn  my  eyes  I 
survey  the  elements  of  my  power;  nor  is  my  form  and 
presence  unworthy  of  a  goddess.  To  all  this  let  me  add 
I  have  seven  sons  and  seven  daughters,  and  look  for 
sons-in-law  and  daughters-in-law  of  pretensions  worthy 
of  my  alliance.  Have  I  not  cause  for  pride?  Will  you 
prefer  to  me  this  Latona,  the  Titan’s  daughter,  with 
her  two  children?  I  have  seven  times  as  m,any.  For¬ 
tunate  indeed  am  I,  and  fortunate  I  shall  remain !  Will 
any  one  deny  this?  My  abundance  is  my  security.  I 
feel  myself  too  strong  for  Fortune  to  subdue.  She  may 
take  from  me  much;  I  shall  still  have  much  left.  Were 
I  to  lose  some  of  my  children,  I  should  hardly  be  left 
as  poor  as  Latona  with  her  two  only.  Away  with  you 
from  these  solemnities, — put  off  the  laurel  from  your 
brows, — have  done  with  this  worship !”  The  people 
obeyed,  and  left  the  sacred  services  uncompleted. 

The  goddess  was  indignant.  On  the  Cynthian  moun¬ 
tain  top  where  she  dwelt  she  thus  addressed  her  son  and 
daughter:  “My  children,  I  who  have  been  so  proud  of 
you  both,  and  have  been  used  to  hold  myself  second 
to  none  of  the  goddesses  except  Juno  alone,  begin  now 
to  doubt  whether  I  am  indeed  a  goddess.  I  shall  be  de¬ 
prived  of  my  worship  altogether  unless  you  protect  me.” 
She  was  proceeding  in  this  strain,  but  Apollo  interrupted 
her.  “Say  no  more,”  said  he;  “speech  only  delays  pun¬ 
ishment.”  So  said  Diana  also.  Darting  through  the  air, 


NIOBE 


113 


veiled  in  clouds,  they  alighted  on  the  towers  of  the  city. 
Spread  out  before  the  gates  was  a  broad  plain,  where 
the  youth  of  the  city  pursued  their  warlike  sports.  The 
sons  of  Niobe  were  there  with  the  rest, — some  mounted 
on  spirited  horses  richly  caparisoned,  some  driving  gay 
chariots.  Ismenos,  the  first-born,  as  he  guided  his  foam¬ 
ing  steeds,  struck  with  an  arrow  from  above,  cried  out, 
“Ah  me !”  dropped  the  reins,  and  fell  lifeless.  Another, 
hearing  the  sound  of  the  bow, — like  a  boatman  who  sees 
the  storm  gathering  and  makes  all  sail  for  the  port, — 
gave  the  reins  to  his  horses  and  attempted  to  escape. 
The  inevitable  arrow  overtook  him  as  he  fled.  Two 
others,  younger  boys,  just  from  their  tasks,  had  gone  to 
the  playground  to  have  a  game  of  wrestling.  As  they 
stood  breast  to  breast,  one  arrow  pierced  them  both. 
They  uttered  a  cry  together,  together  cast  a  parting  look 
around  them,  and  together  breathed  their  last.  Al- 
phenor,  an  elder  brother,  seeing  them  fall,  hastened  to 
the  spot  to  render  assistance,  and  fell  stricken  in  the 
act  of  brotherly  duty.  One  only  was  left,  Ilioneus.  He 
raised  his  arms  to  heaven  to  try  whether  prayer  might 
not  avail.  “Spare  me,  ye  gods !”  he  cried,  addressing 
all,  in  his  ignorance  that  all  needed  not  his  intercessions ; 
and  Apollo  would  have  spared  him,  but  the  arrow  had 
already  left  the  string,  and  it  was  too  late. 

The  terror  of  the  people  and  grief  of  the  attendants 
soon  made  Niobe  acquainted  with  what  had  taken  place. 
She  could  hardly  think  it  possible;  she  was  indignant 
that  the  gods  had  dared  and  amazed  that  they  had  been 
able  to  do  it.  Her  husband,  Amphion,  overwhelmed 
with  the  blow,  destroyed  himself.  Alas !  how  different 
was  this  Niobe  from  her  who  had  so  lately  driven  away 
the  people  from  the  sacred  rites,  and  held  her  stately 
course  through  the  city,  the  envy  of  her  friends,  now 
the  pity  even  of  her  foes!  She  knelt  over  the  lifeless 
bodies,  and  kissed  now  one,  now  another  of  her  dead 
sons.  Raising  her  pallid  arms  to  heaven,  “Cruel  La- 
tona,”  said  she,  “feed  full  your  rage  with  my  anguish! 
Satiate  your  hard  heart,  while  I  follow  to  the  grave  my 
seven  sons.  Yet  where  is  your  triumph?  Bereaved  as 
I  am,  I  am  still  richer  than  you,  my  conqueror.”  Scarce 


114  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


had  she  spoken,  when  the  bow  sounded  and  struck  ter¬ 
ror  into  all  hearts  except  Niobe’s  alone.  She  was  brave 
from  excess  of  grief.  The  sisters  stood  in  garments 
of  mourning  over  the  biers  of  their  dead  brothers.  One 
fell,  struck  by  an  arrow,  and  died  on  the  corpse  she 
was  bewailing.  Another,  attempting  to  console  her 
mother,  suddenly  ceased  to  speak,  and  sank  lifeless  to 
the  earth.  A  third  tried  to  escape  by  flight,  a  fourth  by 
concealment,  another  stood  trembling,  uncertain  what 
course  to  take.  Six  were  now  dead,  and  only  one  re¬ 
mained,  whom  the  mother  held  clasped  in  her  arms,  and 
covered  as  it  were  with  her  whole  body.  “Spare  me 
one,  and  that  the  youngest!  O  spare  me  one  of  so 
many!”  she  cried;  and  while  she  spoke,  that  one  fell 
dead.  Desolate  she  sat,  among  sons,  daughters,  hus¬ 
band,  all  dead,  and  seemed  torpid  with  grief.  The 
breeze  moved  not  her  hair,  no  color  was  on  her  cheek, 
her  eyes  glared  fixed  and  immovable,  there  was  no  sign 
of  life  about  her.  Her  very  tongue  cleaved  to  the  roof 
of  her  mouth,  and  her  veins  ceased  to  convey  the  tide 
of  life.  Her  neck  bent  not,  her  arms  made  no  gesture, 
her  foot  no  step.  She  was  changed  to  stone,  within  and 
without.  Yet  tears  continued  to  flow;  and  borne  on  a 
whirlwind  to  her  native  mountain,  she  still  remains,  a 
mass  of  rock,  from  which  a  trickling  stream  flows,  the 
tribute  of  her  never-ending  grief. 

The  story  of  Niobe  has  furnished  Byron  with  a  fine 
illustration  of  the  fallen  condition  of  modern  Rome: 

“The  Niobe  of  nations !  there  she  stands, 

Childless  and  crownless  in  her  voiceless  woe; 

An  empty  urn  within  her  withered  hands, 

Whose  holy  dust  was  scattered  long  ago ; 

The  Scipios’  tomb  contains  no  ashes  now : 

The  very  sepulchres  lie  tenantless 
Of  their  heroic  dwellers;  dost  thou  flow, 

Old  Tiber!  through  a  marble  wilderness? 

Rise  with  thy  yellow  waves,  and  mantle  her  distress.” 

Childe  Harold ,  IV.  79. 

This  affecting  story  has  been  made  the  subject  of  a 
celebrated  statue  in  the  imperial  gallery  of  Florence.  It 


THE  GR2EM  AND  THE  GORGONS 


115 


is  the  principal  figure  of  a  group  supposed  to  have  been 
originally  arranged  in  the  pediment  of  a  temple.  The 
figure  of  the  mother  clasped  by  the  arm  of  her  terrified 
child  is  one  of  the  most  admired  of  the  ancient  statues. 
It  ranks  with  the  Laocoon  and  the  Apollo  among  the 
masterpieces  of  art.  The  following  is  a  translation  of 
a  Greek  epigram  supposed  to  relate  to  this  statue: 

“To  stone  the  gods  have  changed  her,  but  in  vain; 

The  sculptor’s  art  lias  made  her  breathe  again.” 

Tragic  as  is  the  story  of  Niobe,  we  cannot  forbear 
to  smile  at  the  use  Moore  has  made  of  it  in  “Rhymes 
on  the  Road” : 

“’Twas  in  his  carriage  the  sublime 
Sir  Richard  Blackmore  used  to  rhyme, 

And,  if  the  wits  don’t  do  him  wrong, 

’Twixt  death  and  epics  passed  his  time, 

Scribbling  and  killing  all  day  long; 

Like  Phoebus  in  his  car  at  ease, 

Now  warbling  forth  a  lofty  song, 

Now  murdering  the  young  Niobes.” 

Sir  Richard  Blackmore  was  a  physician,  and  at  the 
same  time  a  very  prolific  and  very  tasteless  poet,  whose 
works  are  now  forgotten,  unless  when  recalled  to  mind 
by  some  wit  like  Moore  for  the  sake  of  a  joke. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  GR.E.E  OR  GRAY-MAIDS — PERSEUS — MEDUSA — 

ATLAS - ANDROMEDA 

THE  GR^E-E  AND  THE  GORGONS 

The  Graese  were  three  sisters  who  were  gray-haired 
from  their  birth,  whence  their  name.  The  Gorgons  were 
monstrous  females  with  huge  teeth  like  those  of  swine, 
brazen  claws,  and  snaky  hair.  None  of  these  beings 


116  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


make  much  figure  in  mythology  except  Medusa,  the  Gor¬ 
gon,  whose  story  we  shall  next  advert  to.  We  mention 
them  chiefly  to  introduce  an  ingenious  theory  of  some 
modern  writers,  namely,  that  the  Gorgons  and  Graeae 
were  only  personifications  of  the  terrors  of  the  sea, 
the  former  denoting  the  strong  billows  of  the  wide  open 
main,  and  the  latter  the  white- crested  waves  that  dash 
against  the  rocks  of  the  coast.  Their  names  in  Greek 
signify  the  above  epithets. 

PERSEUS  AND  MEDUSA 

Perseus  was  the  son  of  Jupiter  and  Danae.  His  grand¬ 
father  Acrisius,  alarmed  by  an  oracle  which  had  told 
him  that  his  daughter’s  child  would  be  the  instrument  of 
his  death,  caused  the  mother  and  child  to  be  shut  up  in 
a  chest  and  set  adrift  on  the  sea.  The  chest  floated 
towards  Seriphus,  where  it  was  found  by  a  fisherman 
who  conveyed  the  mother  and  infant  to  Polydectes,  the 
king  of  the  country,  by  whom  they  were  treated  with 
kindness.  When  Perseus  was  grown  up  Polydectes  sent 
him  to  attempt  the  conquest  of  Medusa,  a  terrible  mon¬ 
ster  who  had  laid  waste  the  country.  She  was  once 
a  beautiful  maiden  whose  hair  was  her  chief  glory,  but 
as  she  dared  to  vie  in  beauty  with  Minerva,  the  goddess 
deprived  her  of  her  charms  and  changed  her  beautiful 
ringlets  into  hissing  serpents.  She  became  a  cruel  mon¬ 
ster  of  so  frightful  an  aspect  that  no  living  thing  could 
behold  her  without  being  turned  into  stone.  All  around 
the  cavern  where  she  dwelt  might  be  seen  the  stony 
figures  of  men  and  animals  which  had  chanced  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  her  and  had  been  petrified  with  the  sight. 
Perseus,  favored  by  Minerva  and  Mercury,  the  former 
of  whom  lent  him  her  shield  and  the  latter  his  winged 
shoes,  approached  Medusa  while  she  slept,  and  taking 
care  not  to  look  directly  at  her,  but  guided  by  her  image 
reflected  in  the  bright  shield  which  he  bore,  he  cut  off 
her  head  and  gave  it  to  Minerva,  who  fixed  it  in  the 
middle  of  her  ^gis. 

Milton,  in  his  “Comus,”  thus  alludes  to  the  ^Egis: 


PERSEUS  AND  ATLAS 


117 


“What  was  that  snaky-headed  Gorgon-shield 
That  wise  Minerva  wore,  unconquered  virgin, 

Wherewith  she  freezed  her  foes  to  congealed  stone, 

But  rigid  looks  of  chaste  austerity, 

And  noble  grace  that  dashed  brute  violence 
With  sudden  adoration  and  blank  awe!” 

Armstrong,  the  poet  of  the  “Art  of  Preserving 
Health/’  thus  describes  the  effect  of  frost  upon  the 
waters : 

“Now  blows  the  surly  North  and  chills  throughout 
The  stiffening  regions,  while  by  stronger  charms 
Than  Circe  e’er  or  fell  Medea  brewed, 

Each  brook  that  wont  to  prattle  to  its  banks 
Lies  all  bestilled  and  wedged  betwixt  its  banks, 

Nor  moves  the  withered  reeds  .  .  . 

The  surges  baited  by  the  fierce  North-east, 

Tossing  with  fretful  spleen  their  angry  heads, 

E’en  in  the  foam  of  all  their  madness  struck 
To  monumental  ice. 


Such  execution, 

So  stem,  so  sudden,  wrought  the  grisly  aspect 
Of  terrible  Medusa, 

When  wandering  through  the  woods  she  turned  to  stone 
Their  savage  tenants;  just  as  the  foaming  Lion 
Sprang  furious  on  his  prey,  her  speedier  power 
Outran  his  haste, 

And  fixed  in  that  fierce  attitude  he  stands 
Like  Rage  in  marble!” 

— Imitations  of  Shakspeare. 

PERSEUS  AND  ATLAS 

After  the  slaughter  of  Medusa,  Perseus,  bearing  with 
him  the  head  of  the  Gorgon,  flew  far  and  wide,  over 
land  and  sea.  As  night  came  on,  he  reached  the  western 
limit  of  the  earth,  where  the  sun  goes  down.  Here  he 
would  gladly  have  rested  till  morning.  It  was  the  realm 
of  King  Atlas,  whose  bulk  surpassed  that  of  all  other 
men.  He  was  rich  in  flocks  and  herds  and  had  no 
neighbor  or  rival  to  dispute  his  state.  But  his  chief 
pride  was  in  his  gardens,  whose  fruit  was  of  gold,  hang¬ 
ing  from  golden  branches,  half  hid  with  golden  leaves. 
Perseus  said  to  him,  “I  come  as  a  guest.  If  you  honor 
illustrious  descent,  I  claim  Jupiter  for  my  father;  if 


118  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


mighty  deeds,  I  plead  the  conquest  of  the  Gorgon.  I 
seek  rest  and  food.”  But  Atlas  remembered  that  an  an¬ 
cient  prophecy  had  warned  him  that  a  son  of  Jove  should 
one  day  rob  him  of  his  golden  apples.  So  he  answered, 
'‘Begone !  or  neither  your  false  claims  of  glory  nor  par¬ 
entage  shall  protect  you;”  and  he  attempted  to  thrust 
him  out.  Perseus,  finding  the  giant  too  strong  for  him, 
said,  “Since  you  value  my  friendship  so  little,  deign  to 
accept  a  present;”  and  turning  his  face  away,  he  held 
up  the  Gorgon’s  head.  Atlas,  with  all  his  bulk,  was 
changed  into  stone.  His  beard  and  hair  became  forests, 
his  arms  and  shoulders  cliffs,  his  head  a  summit,  and 
his  bones  rocks.  Each  part  increased  in  bulk  till  he  be¬ 
came  a  mountain,  and  (such  was  the  pleasure  of  the 
gods)  heaven  with  all  its  stars  rests  upon  his  shoulders. 

THE  SEA-MONSTER 

Perseus,  continuing  his  flight,  arrived  at  the  country 
of  the  ^Ethiopians,  of  which  Cepheus  was  king.  Cas¬ 
siopeia  his  queen,  proud  of  her  beauty,  had  dared  to 
compare  herself  to  the  Sea-Nymphs,  which  roused  their 
indignation  to  such  a  degree  that  they  sent  a  prodigious 
sea-monster  to  ravage  the  coast.  To  appease  the  deities, 
Cepheus  was  directed  by  the  oracle  to  expose  his 
daughter  Andromeda  to  be  devoured  by  the  monster. 
As  Perseus  looked  down  from  his  aerial  height  he  beheld 
the  virgin  chained  to  a  rock,  and  waiting  the  approach  of 
the  serpent.  She  was  so  pale  and  motionless  that  if  it 
had  not  been  for  her  flowing  tears  and  her  hair  that 
moved  in  the  breeze,  he  would  have  taken  her  for  a 
marble  statue.  He  was  so  startled  at  the  sight  that  he  al¬ 
most  forgot  to  wave  his  wings.  As  he  hovered  over  her 
he  said,  “O  virgin,  undeserving  of  those  chains,  but 
rather  of  such  as  bind  fond  lovers  together,  tell  me,  I 
beseech  you,  your  name,  and  the  name  of  your  country, 
and  why  you  are  thus  bound.”  At  first  she  was  silent 
from  modesty,  and,  if  she  could,  would  have  hid  her 
face  with  her  hands ;  but  when  he  repeated  his  questions, 
for  fear  she  might  be  thought  guilty  of  some  fault  which 
she  dared  not  tell,  she  disclosed  her  name  and  that  of 


THE  SEA-MONSTER 


119 


her  country,  and  her  mother's  pride  of  beauty.  Before 
she  had  done  speaking,  a  sound  was  heard  off  upon  the 
water,  and  the  sea-monster  appeared,  with  his  head 
raised  above  the  surface,  cleaving  the  waves  with  his 
broad  breast.  The  virgin  shrieked,  the  father  and  mother 
who  had  now  arrived  at  the  scene,  wretched  both,  but 
the  mother  more  justly  so,  stood  by,  not  able  to  afford 
protection,  but  only  to  pour  forth  lamentations  and  to 
embrace  the  victim.  Then  spoke  Perseus :  “There  will 
be  time  enough  for  tears;  this  hour  is  all  we  have  for 
rescue.  My  rank  as  the  son  of  Jove  and  my  renown  as 
the  slayer  of  the  Gorgon  might  make  me  acceptable  as 
a  suitor;  but  I  will  try  to  win  her  by  services  rendered, 
if  the  gods  will  only  be  propitious.  If  she  be  rescued  by 
my  valor,  I  demand  that  she  be  my  reward.”  The  par¬ 
ents  consent  (how  could  they  hesitate?)  and  promise  a 
royal  dowry  with  her. 

And  now  the  monster  was  within  the  range  of  a  stone 
thrown  by  a  skilful  slinger,  when  with  a  sudden  bound 
the  youth  soared  into  the  air.  As  an  eagle,  when  from 
his  lofty  flight  he  sees  a  serpent  basking  in  the  sun, 
pounces  upon  him  and  seizes  him  by  the  neck  to  prevent 
him  from  turning  his  head  round  and  using  his  fangs, 
so  the  youth  darted  down  upon  the  back  of  the  monster 
and  plunged  his  sword  into  its  shoulder.  Irritated  by 
the  wound,  the  monster  raised  himself  in  the  air,  then 
plunged  into  the  depth ;  then,  like  a  wild  boar  surrounded, 
by  a  pack  of  barking  dogs,  turned  swiftly  from  side  to 
side,  while  the  youth  eluded  its  attacks  by  means  of  his 
wings.  Wherever  he  can  find  a  passage  for  his  sword 
between  the  scales  he  makes  a  wound,  piercing  now  the 
side,  now  the  flank,  as  it  slopes  towards  the  tail.  The 
brute  spouts  from  his  nostrils  water  mixed  with  blood. 
The  wings  of  the  hero  are  wet  with  it,  and  he  dares  no 
longer  trust  to  them.  Alighting  on  a  rock  which  rose 
above  the  waves,  and  holding  on  by  a  projecting  frag¬ 
ment,  as  the  monster  floated  near  he  gave  him  a  death 
stroke.  The  people  who  had  gathered  on  the  shore 
shouted  so  that  the  hills  reechoed  the  sound.  The  par¬ 
ents,  transported  with  joy,  embraced  their  future  son-in- 
law,  calling  him  their  deliverer  and  the  savior  of  their 


120  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


house,  and  the  virgin,  both  cause  and  reward  of  the  con¬ 
test,  descended  from  the  rock. 

Cassiopeia  was  an  ^Ethiopian,  and  consequently,  in 
spite  of  her  boasted  beauty,  black;  at  least  so  Milton 
seems  to  have  thought,  who  alludes  to  this  story  in  his 
“Penseroso,”  where  he  addresses  Melancholy  as  the 

.  .  .  goddess,  sage  and  holy, 

Whose  saintly  visage  is  too  bright 
To  hit  the  sense  of  human  sight, 

And,  therefore,  to  our  weaker  view 
O’erlaid  with  black,  staid  Wisdom’s  hue. 

Black,  but  such  as  in  esteem 
Prince  Memnorfs  sister  might  beseem, 

Or  that  starred  Ethiop  queen  that  strove 

To  set  her  beauty’s  praise  above 

The  sea-nymphs,  and  their  powers  offended.” 


Cassiopeia  is  called  “the  starred  iEthiop  queen”  be¬ 
cause  after  her  death  she  was  placed  among  the  stars, 
forming  the  constellation  of  that  name.  Though  she 
attained  this  honor,  yet  the  Sea-Nymphs,  her  old  ene¬ 
mies,  prevailed  so  far  as  to  cause  her  to  be  placed  in  that 
part  of  the  heaven  near  the  pole,  where  every  night  she 
is  half  the  time  held  with  her  head  downward,  to  give 
her  a  lesson  of  humility. 

Memnon  was  an  ^Ethiopian  prince,  of  whom  we 
shall  tell  in  a  future  chapter. 


THE  WEDDING  FEAST 

The  joyful  parents,  with  Perseus  and  Andromeda, 
repaired  to  the  palace,  where  a  banquet  was  spread  for 
them,  and  all  was  joy  and  festivity.  But  suddenly  a 
noise  was  heard  of  warlike  clamor,  and  Phineus,  the 
betrothed  of  the  virgin,  with  a  party  of  his  adherents, 
burst  in,  demanding  the  maiden  as  his  own.  It  was  in 
vain  that  Cepheus  remonstrated — “You  should  have 
claimed  her  when  she  lay  bound  to  the  rock,  the  mon¬ 
ster’s  victim.  The  sentence  of  the  gods  dooming  her  to 
such  a  fate  dissolved  all  engagements,  as  death  itself 


THE  WEDDING  FEAST 


121 


would  have  done.”  Phineus  made  no  reply,  but  hurled 
his  javelin  at  Perseus,  but  it  missed  its  mark  and  fell 
harmless.  Perseus  would  have  thrown  his  in  turn,  but 
the  cowardly  assailant  ran  and  took  shelter  behind  the 
altar.  But  his  act  was  a  signal  for  an  onset  by  his  band 
upon  the  guests  of  Cepheus.  They  defended  themselves 
and  a  general  conflict  ensued,  the  old  king  retreating 
from  the  scene  after  fruitless  expostulations,  calling  the 
gods  to  witness  that  he  was  guiltless  of  this  outrage  on 
the  rights  of  hospitality. 

Perseus  and  his  friends  maintained  for  some  time  the 
unequal  contest;  but  the  numbers  of  the  assailants  were 
too  great  for  them,  and  destruction  seemed  inevitable, 
when  a  sudden  thought  struck  Perseus, — “I  will  make 
my  enemy  defend  me.”  Then  with  a  loud  voice  he  ex¬ 
claimed,  “If  I  have  any  friend  here  let  him  turn  away 
his  eyes !”  and  held  aloft  the  Gorgon’s  head.  “Seek  not 
to  frighten  us  with  your  jugglery,”  said  Thescelus,  and 
raised  his  javelin  in  act  to  throw,  and  became  stone  in  the 
very  attitude.  Ampyx  was  about  to  plunge  his  sword 
into  the  body  of  a  prostrate  foe,  but  his  arm  stiffened 
and  he  could  neither  thrust  forward  nor  withdraw  it. 
Another,  in  the  midst  of  a  vociferous  challenge,  stopped, 
his  mouth  open,  but  no  sound  issuing.  One  of  Perseus’s 
friends,  Aconteus,  caught  sight  of  the  Gorgon  and  stiff¬ 
ened  like  the  rest.  Astyages  struck  him  with  his  sword, 
but  instead  of  wounding,  it  recoiled  with  a  ringing 
noise. 

Phineus  beheld  this  dreadful  result  of  his  unjust  ag¬ 
gression,  and  felt  confounded.  He  called  aloud  to  his 
friends,  but  got  no  answer;  he  touched  them  and  found 
them  stone.  Falling  on  his  knees  and  stretching  out  his 
hands  to  Perseus,  but  turning  his  head  away  he  begged 
for  mercy.  “Take  all,”  said  he,  “give  me  but  my  life.” 
“Base  coward,”  said  Perseus,  “thus  much  I  will  grant 
you;  no  weapon  shall  touch  you;  moreover,  you  shall 
be  preserved  in  my  house  as  a  memorial  of  these  events.” 
So  saying,  he  held  the  Gorgon’s  head  to  the  side  where 
Phineus  was  looking,  and  in  the  very  form  in  which  he 
knelt,  with  his  hands  outstretched  and  face  averted,  he 
became  fixed  immovably,  a  mass  of  stone! 


122  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


The  following  allusion  to  Perseus  is  from  Milman’s 
“Samor” : 

“As  ’mid  the  fabled  Libyan  bridal  stood 
Perseus  in  stern  tranquillity  of  wrath, 

Half  stood,  half  floated  on  his  ankle-plumes 
Out-swelling,  while  the  bright  face  on  his  shield 
Looked  into  stone  the  raging  fray;  so  rose, 

But  with  no  magic  arms,  wearing  alone 
Th’  appalling  and  control  of  his  firm  look, 

The  Briton  Samor;  at  his  rising  awe 
Went  abroad,  and  the  riotous  hall  was  mute.” 


CHAPTER  XVI 

MONSTERS 

GIANTS,  SPHINX,  PEGASUS  AND  CHIMvERA,  CENTAURS, 

GRIFFIN,  AND  PYGMIES 

Monsters,  in  the  language  of  mythology,  were  beings 
of  unnatural  proportions  or  parts,  usually  regarded  with 
terror,  as  possessing  immense  strength  and  ferocity, 
which  they  employed  for  the  injury  and  annoyance  of 
men.  Some  of  them  were  supposed  to  combine  the  mem¬ 
bers  of  different  animals;  such  were  the  Sphinx  and 
Chimaera;  and  to  these  all  the  terrible  qualities  of  wild 
beasts  were  attributed,  together  with  human  sagacity  and 
faculties.  Others,  as  the  giants,  differed  from  men  chiefly 
in  their  size;  and  in  this  particular  we  must  recognize 
a  wide  distinction  among  them.  The  human  giants,  if 
so  they  may  be  called,  such  as  the  Cyclopes,  Antaeus, 
Orion,  and  others,  must  be  supposed  not  to  be  altogether 
disproportioned  to  human  beings,  for  they  mingled  in 
love  and  strife  with  them.  But  the  superhuman  giants, 
who  warred  with  the  gods,  were  of  vastly  larger  dimen¬ 
sions.  Tityus,  we  are  told,  when  stretched  on  the  plain, 
covered  nine  acres,  and  Enceladus  required  the  whole  of 
Mount  iEtna  to  be  laid  upon  him  to  keep  him  down. 

We  have  already  spoken  of  the  war  which  the  giants 
waged  against  the  gods,  and  of  its  result.  While  this 


THE  SPHINX 


123 


war  lasted  the  giants  proved  a  formidable  enemy.  Some 
of  them,  like  Briareus,  had  a  hundred  arms;  others,  like 
Typhon,  breathed  out  fire.  At  one  time  they  put  the  gods 
to  such  fear  that  they  fled  into  Egypt  and  hid  them¬ 
selves  under  various  forms.  Jupiter  took  the  form  of  a 
ram,  whence  he  was  afterwards  worshipped  in  Egypt  as 
the  god  Ammon,  with  curved  horns.  Apollo  became  a 
crow,  Bacchus  a  goat,  Diana  a  cat,  Juno  a  cow,  Venus  a 
fish,  Mercury  a  bird.  At  another  time  the  giants  at¬ 
tempted  to  climb  up  into  heaven,  and  for  that  purpose 
took  up  the  mountain  Ossa  and  piled  it  on  Pelion.1 
They  were  at  last  subdued  by  thunderbolts,  which  Min¬ 
erva  invented,  and  taught  Vulcan  and  his  Cyclopes  to 
make  for  Jupiter. 

THE  SPHINX 

Laius,  king  of  Thebes,  was  warned  by  an  oracle  that 
there  was  danger  to  his  throne  and  life  if  his  new-born 
son  should  be  suffered  to  grow  up.  He  therefore  commit¬ 
ted  the  child  to  the  care  of  a  herdsman  with  orders  to  de¬ 
stroy  him;  but  the  herdsman,  moved  with  pity,  yet  not 
daring  entirely  to  disobey,  tied  up  the  child  by  the  feet 
and  left  him  hanging  to  the  branch  of  a  tree.  In  this 
condition  the  infant  was  found  by  a  peasant,  who  car¬ 
ried  him  to  his  master  and  mistress,  by  whom  he  was 
adopted  and  called  GEdipus,  or  Swollen-foot. 

Many  years  afterwards  Laius  being  on  his  way  to 
Delphi,  accompanied  only  by  one  attendant,  met  in  a  nar¬ 
row  road  a  young  man  also  driving  in  a  chariot.  On  his 
refusal  to  leave  the  way  at  their  command  the  attendant 
killed  one  of  his  horses,  and  the  stranger,  filled  with  rage, 
slew  both  Laius  and  his  attendant.  The  young  man  was 
CEdipus,  who  thus  unknowingly  became  the  slayer  of 
his  own  father. 

Shortly  after  this  event  the  city  of  Thebes  was  afflicted 
with  a  monster  which  infested  the  highroad.  It  was 
called  the  Sphinx.  It  had  the  body  of  a  lion  and  the 
upper  part  of  a  woman.  It  lay  crouched  on  the  top  of 
a  rock,  and  arrested  all  travellers  who  came  that  way, 

1  See  Proverbial  Expressions. 


124  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


proposing  to  them  a  riddle,  with  the  condition  that  those 
who  could  solve  it  should  pass  safe,  but  those  who 
failed  should  be  killed.  Not  one  had  yet  succeeded 
in  solving  it,  and  all  had  been  slain.  CEdipus  was  not 
daunted  by  these  alarming  accounts,  but  boldly  advanced 
to  the  trial.  The  Sphinx  asked  him,  “What  animal  is 
that  which  in  the  morning  gees  on  four  feet,  at  noon  on 
two,  and  in  the  evening  upon  three?”  CEdipus  replied, 
“Man,  who  in  childhood  creeps  on  hands  and  knees,  in 
manhood  walks  erect,  and  in  old  age  with  the  aid  of  a 
staff.”  The  Sphinx  was  so  mortified  at  the  solving  of 
her  riddle  that  she  cast  herself  down  from  the  rock  and 
perished. 

The  gratitude  of  the  people  for  their  deliverance  was 
so  great  that  they  made  CEdipus  their  king,  giving  him 
in  marriage  their  queen  Jocasta.  CEdipus,  ignorant  of 
his  parentage,  had  already  become  the  slayer  of  his  fa¬ 
ther;  in  marrying  the  queen  he  became  the  husband  of 
his  mother.  These  horrors  remained  undiscovered,  till  at 
length  Thebes  was  afflicted  with  famine  and  pestilence, 
and  the  oracle  being  consulted,  the  double  crime  of 
CEdipus  came  to  light.  Jocasta  put  an  end  to  her  own 
life,  and  CEdipus,  seized  with  madness,  tore  out  his  eyes 
and  wandered  away  from  Thebes,  dreaded  and  aban¬ 
doned  by  all  except  his  daughters,  who  faithfully  ad¬ 
hered  to  him,  till  after  a  tedious  period  of  miserable 
wandering  he  found  the  termination  of  his  wretched 
life. 

PEGASUS  AND  THE  CHIMERA 

When  Perseus  cut  off  Medusa’s  head,  the  blood  sink¬ 
ing  into  the  earth  produced  the  winged  horse  Pegasus. 
Minerva  caught  him  and  tamed  him  and  presented  him 
to  the  Muses.  The  fountain  Hippocrene,  on  the  Muses’ 
mountain  Helicon,  was  opened  by  a  kick  from  his  hoof. 

The  Chimsera  was  a  fearful  monster,  breathing  fire. 
The  fore  part  of  its  body  was  a  compound  of  the  lion 
and  the  goat,  and  the  hind  part  a  dragon’s.  It  made 
great  havoc  in  Lycia,  so  that  the  king,  Iobates,  sought 
for  some  hero  to  destroy  it.  At  that  time  there  arrived 
at  his  court  a  gallant  young  warrior,  whose  name  was 


PEGASUS  AND  THE  CHUVLERA 


125 


Bellerophon.  He  brought  letters  from  Prcetus,  the  son- 
in-law  of  Iobates,  recommending  Bellerophon  in  the 
warmest  terms  as  an  unconquerable  hero,  but  added  at 
the  close  a  request  to  his  father-in-law  to  put  him  to 
death.  The  reason  was  that  Prcetus  was  jealous  of  him, 
suspecting  that  his  wife  Antea  looked  with  too  much  ad¬ 
miration  on  the  young  warrior.  From  this  instance  of 
Bellerophon  being  unconsciously  the  bearer  of  his  own 
death  warrant,  the  expression  “Bellerophontic  letters” 
arose,  to  describe  any  species  of  communication  which  a 
person  is  made  the  bearer  of,  containing  matter  preju¬ 
dicial  to  himself. 

Iobates,  on  perusing  the  letters,  was  puzzled  what  to 
do,  not  willing  to  violate  the  claims  of  hospitality,  yet 
wishing  to  oblige  his  son-in-law.  A  lucky  thought  oc¬ 
curred  to  him,  to  send  Bellerophon  to  combat  with  the 
Chimaera.  Bellerophon  accepted  the  proposal,  but  be¬ 
fore  proceeding  to  the  combat  consulted  the  soothsayer 
Polyidus,  who  advised  him  to  procure  if  possible  the 
horse  Pegasus  for  the  conflict.  For  this  purpose  he 
directed  him  to  pass  the  night  in  the  temple  of  Minerva. 
He  did  so,  and  as  he  slept  Minerva  came  to  him  and  gave 
him  a  golden  bridle.  When  he  awoke  the  bridle  re¬ 
mained  in  his  hand.  Minerva  also  showed  him  Pegasus 
drinking  at  the  well  of  Pirene,  and  at  sight  of  the  bridle 
the  winged  steed  came  willingly  and  suffered  himself  to 
be  taken.  Bellerophon  mounted  him,  rose  with  him  into 
the  air,  soon  found  the  Chimaera,  and  gained  an  easy 
victory  over  the  monster. 

After  the  conquest  of  the  Chimaera  Bellerophon  was 
exposed  to  further  trials  and  labors  by  his  unfriendly 
host,  but  by  the  aid  of  Pegasus  he  triumphed  in  them 
all,  till  at  length  Iobates,  seeing  that  the  hero  was  a 
special  favorite  of  the  gods,  gave  him  his  daughter  in 
marriage  and  made  him  his  successor  on  the  throne.  At 
last  Bellerophon  by  his  pride  and  presumption  drew 
upon  himself  the  anger  of  the  gods;  it  is  said  he  even 
attempted  to  fly  up  into  heaven  on  his  winged  steed,  but 
Jupiter  sent  a  gadfly  which  stung  Pegasus  and  made 
him  throw  his  rider,  who  became  lame  and  blind  in  con¬ 
sequence.  After  this  Bellerophon  wandered  lonely 


126  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


through  the  Aleian  field,  avoiding  the  paths  of  men,  and 
died  miserably. 

Milton  alludes  to  Bellerophon  in  the  beginning  of  the 
seventh  book  of  “Paradise  Lost” : 

“Descend  from  Heaven,  Urania,  by  that  name 
If  rightly  thou  art  called,  whose  voice  divine 
Following  above  the  Olympian  hill  I  soar, 

Above  the  flight  of  Pegasean  wing. 

Upled  by  thee, 

Into  the  Heaven  of  Heavens  I  have  presumed, 

An  earthly  guest,  and  drawn  empyreal  air 
(Thy  tempering)  ;  with  like  safety  guided  down 
Return  me  to  my  native  element; 

Lest  from  this  flying  steed  unreined  (as  once 
Bellerophon,  though  from  a  lower  sphere), 

Dismounted  on  the  Aleian  field  I  fall, 

Erroneous  there  to  wander  and  forlorn.” 

Young,  in  his  “Night  Thoughts,”  speaking  of  the 
sceptic,  says: 

“He  whose  blind  thought  futurity  denies, 
Unconscious  bears,  Bellerophon,  like  thee 
His  own  indictment;  he  condemns  himself. 

Who  reads  his  bosom  reads  immortal  life, 

Or  nature  there,  imposing  on  her  sons, 

Has  written  fables;  man  was  made  a  lie.” 

Vol.  II.,  p.  12. 

Pegasus,  being  the  horse  of  the  Muses,  has  always 
been  at  the  service  of  the  poets.  Schiller  tells  a  pretty 
story  of  his  having  been  sold  by  a  needy  poet  and  put  to 
the  cart  and  the  plough.  He  was  not  fit  for  such  service, 
and  his  clownish  master  could  make  nothing  of  him. 
But  a  youth  stepped  forth  and  asked  leave  to  try  him. 
As  soon  as  he  was  seated  on  his  back  the  horse,  which 
had  appeared  at  first  vicious,  and  afterwards  spirit- 
broken,  rose  kingly,  a  spirit,  a  god,  unfolded  the  splen¬ 
dor  of  his  wings,  and  soared  towards  heaven.  Our  own 
poet  Longfellow  also  records  an  adventure  of  this  fa¬ 
mous  steed  in  his  “Pegasus  in  Pound.” 

Shakspeare  alludes  to  Pegasus  in  “Henry  IV.,”  where 
Vernon  describes  Prince  Henry : 


THE  CENTAURS 


127 


4<I  saw  young  Harry,  with  his  beaver  on, 

His  cuishes  on  his  thighs,  gallantly  armed, 

Rise  from  the  ground  like  feathered  Mercury, 
And  vaulted  with  such  ease  into  his  seat, 

As  if  an  angel  dropped  down  from  the  clouds, 
To  turn  and  wind  a  fiery  Pegasus, 

And  witch  the  world  with  noble  horsemanship.” 


THE  CENTAURS 

These  monsters  were  represented  as  men  from  the 
head  to  the  loins,  while  the  remainder  of  the  body  was 
that  of  a  horse.  The  ancients  were  too  fond  of  a  horse 
to  consider  the  union  of  his  nature  with  man’s  as  form¬ 
ing  a  very  degraded  compound,  and  accordingly  the 
Centaur  is  the  only  one  of  the  fancied  monsters  of  an¬ 
tiquity  to  which  any  good  traits  are  assigned.  The  Cen¬ 
taurs  were  admitted  to  the  companionship  of  man,  and 
at  the  marriage  of  Pirithous  with  Hippodamia  they  were 
among  the  guests.  At  the  feast  Eurytion,  one  of  the 
Centaurs,  becoming  intoxicated  with  the  wine,  attempted 
to  offer  violence  to  the  bride;  the  other  Centaurs  fol¬ 
lowed  his  example,  and  a  dreadful  conflict  arose  in  which 
several  of  them  were  slain.  This  is  the  celebrated  battle 
of  the  Lapithae  and  Centaurs,  a  favorite  subject  with 
the  sculptors  and  poets  of  antiquity. 

But  not  all  the  Centaurs  were  like  the  rude  guests  of 
Pirithous.  Chiron  was  instructed  by  Apollo  and  Diana, 
and  was  renowned  for  his  skill  in  hunting,  medicine, 
music,  and  the  art  of  prophecy.  The  most  distinguished 
heroes  of  Grecian  story  were  his  pupils.  Among  the 
^rest  the  infant  iEsculapius  was  intrusted  to  his  charge 
by  Apollo,  his  father.  When  the  sage  returned  to  his 
home  bearing  the  infant,  his  daughter  Ocyroe  came 
forth  to  meet  him,  and  at  sight  of  the  child  burst  forth 
into  a  prophetic  strain  (for  she  was  a  prophetess),  fore¬ 
telling  the  glory  that  he  was  to  achieve.  ^Esculapius 
when  grown  up  became  a  renowned  physician,  and  even 
in  one  instance  succeeded  in  restoring  the  dead  to  life. 
Pluto  resented  this,  and  Jupiter,  at  his  request,  struck 
the  bold  physician  with  lightning,  and  killed  him,  but 
after  his  death  received  him  into  the  number  of  the  gods. 


128  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


Chiron  was  the  wisest  and  justest  of  all  the  Centaurs, 
and  at  his  death  Jupiter  placed  him  among  the  stars  as 
the  constellation  Sagittarius. 

THE  PYGMIES 

The  Pygmies  were  a  nation  of  dwarfs,  so  called  from 
a  Greek  word  which  means  the  cubit  or  measure  of 
about  thirteen  inches,  which  was  said  to  be  the  height  of 
these  people.  They  lived  near  the  sources  of  the  Nile, 
or  according  to  others,  in  India.  Homer  tells  us  that 
the  cranes  used  to  migrate  every  winter  to  the  Pygmies’ 
country,  and  their  appearance  was  the  signal  of  bloody 
warfare  to  the  puny  inhabitants,  who  had  to  take  up 
arms  to  defend  their  cornfields  against  the  rapacious 
strangers.  The  Pygmies  and  their  enemies  the  Cranes 
form  the  subject  of  several  works  of  art. 

Later  writers  tell  of  an  army  of  Pygmies  which  find¬ 
ing  Hercules  asleep  made  preparations  to  attack  him,  as 
if  they  were  about  to  attack  a  city.  But  the  hero, 
awaking,  laughed  at  the  little  warriors,  wrapped  some 
of  them  up  in  his  lion’s  skin,  and  carried  them  to 
Eurystheus. 

Milton  uses  the  Pygmies  for  a  simile,  “Paradise 
Lost,”  Book  I.: 

.  .  like  that  Pygmaean  race 
Beyond  the  Indian  mount,  or  fairy  elves 
Whose  midnight  revels  by  a  forest  side, 

Or  fountain,  some  belated  peasant  sees 

(Or  dreams  he  sees),  while  overhead  the  moon 

Sits  arbitress,  and  nearer  to  the  earth 

Wheels  her  pale  course;  they  on  their  mirth  and  dance 

Intent,  with  jocund  music  charm  his  ear. 

At  once  with  joy  and  fear  his  heart  rebounds.” 

THE  GRIFFIN,  OR  GRYPHON 

The  Griffin  is  a  monster  with  the  body  of  a  lion,  the 
head  and  wings  of  an  eagle,  and  back  covered  with 
feathers.  Like  birds  it  builds  its  nest,  and  instead  of  an 
egg  lays  an  agate  therein.  It  has  long  claws  and  talons 


( 


THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE 


129 


of  such  a  size  that  the  people  of  that  country  make 
them  into  drinking-cups.  India  was  assigned  as  the  na¬ 
tive  country  of  the  Griffins.  They  found  gold  in  the 
mountains  and  built  their  nests  of  it,  for  which  reason 
their  nests  were  very  tempting  to  the  hunters,  and  they 
were  forced  to  keep  vigilant  guard  over  them.  Their  in¬ 
stinct  led  them  to  know  where  buried  treasures  lay,  and 
they  did  their  best  to  keep  plunderers  at  a  distance.  The 
Arimaspians,  among  whom  the  Griffins  flourished,  were 
a  one-eyed  people  of  Scythia. 

.  / 

Milton  borrows  a  simile  from  the  Griffins,  “Paradise 
Lost/5  Book  II. : 

“As  when  a  Gryphon  through  the  wilderness, 

With  winged  course,  o’er  hill  and  moory  dale, 

Pursues  the  Arimaspian  who  by  stealth 
Hath  from  his  wakeful  custody  purloined 
His  guarded  gold,”  etc. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE — MEDEA 
THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE 

In  very  ancient  times  there  lived  in  Thessaly  a  king 
and  queen  named  Athamas  and  Nephele.  They  had  two 
children,  a  boy  and  a  girl.  After  a  time  Athamas  grew 
indifferent  to  his  wife,  put  her  away,  and  took  another. 
Nephele  suspected  danger  to  her  children  from  the  in¬ 
fluence  of  the  step-mother,  and  took  measures  to  send 
them  out  of  her  reach.  Mercury  assisted  her,  and  gave 
her  a  ram  with  a  golden  fleece ,  on  which  she  set  the  two 
children,  trusting  that  the  ram  would  convey  them  to  a 
place  of  safety.  The  ram  vaulted  into  the  air  with  the 
children  on  his  back,  taking  his  course  to  the  East,  till 
when  crossing  the  strait  that  divides  Europe  and  Asia, 
the  girl,  whose  name  was  Helle,  fell  from  his  back  into 
the  sea,  which  from  her  was  called  the  Hellespont, — 
now  the  Dardanelles.  The  ram  continued  his  career  till 


130  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


he  reached  the  kingdom  of  Colchis,  on  the  eastern  shore 
of  the  Black  Sea,  where  he  safely  landed  the  boy 
Phryxus,  who  was  hospitably  received  by  ./Fetes,  king 
of  the  country.  Phryxus  sacrificed  the  ram  to  Jupiter, 
and  gave  the  Golden  Fleece  to  iEetes,  who  placed  it  in 
a  consecrated  grove,  under  the  care  of  a  sleepless 
dragon. 

There  was  another  kingdom  in  Thessaly  near  to  that 
of  Athamas,  and  ruled  over  by  a  relative  of  his.  The 
king  Aison,  being  tired  of  the  cares  of  government,  sur¬ 
rendered  his  crown  to  his  brother  Pelias  on  condition 
that  he  should  hold  it  only  during  the  minority  of  Jason, 
the  son  of  ^son.  When  Jason  was  grown  up  and  came 
to  demand  the  crown  from  his  uncle,  Pelias  pretended 
to  be  willing  to  yield  it,  but  at  the  same  time  suggested 
to  the  young  man  the  glorious  adventure  of  going  in 
quest  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  which  it  was  well  known  was 
in  the  kingdom  of  Colchis,  and  was,  as  Pelias  pretended, 
the  rightful  property  of  their  family.  Jason  was  pleased 
with  the  thought,  and  forthwith  made  preparations  for 
the  expedition.  At  that  time  the  only  species  of  naviga¬ 
tion  known  to  the  Greeks  consisted  of  small  boats  or 
canoes  hollowed  out  from  trunks  of  trees,  so  that  when 
Jason  employed  Argus  to  build  him  a  vessel  capable  of 
containing  fifty  men,  it  was  considered  a  gigantic  under¬ 
taking.  It  was  accomplished,  however,  and  the  vessel 
named  “Argo,”  from  the  name  of  the  builder.  Jason 
sent  his  invitation  to  all  the  adventurous  young  men  of 
Greece,  and  soon  found  himself  at  the  head  of  a  band  of 
bold  youths,  many  of  whom  afterwards  were  renowned 
among  the  heroes  and  demigods  of  Greece.  Hercules, 
Theseus,  Orpheus,  and  Nestor  were  among  them.  They 
are  called  the  Argonauts,  from  the  name  of  their  vessel. 

The  “Argo”  with  her  crew  of  heroes  left  the  shores 
of  Thessaly  and  having  touched  at  the  Island  of  Lemnos, 
thence  crossed  to  Mysia  and  thence  to  Thrace.  Here 
they  found  the  sage  Phineus,  and  from  him  received  in¬ 
struction  as  to  their  future  course.  It  seems  the  en¬ 
trance  of  the  Euxine  Sea  was  impeded  by  two  small 
rocky  islands,  which  floated  on  the  surface,  and  in  their 
tossings  and  heavings  occasionally  came  together,  crush- 


THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE 


131 


ing  and  grinding  to  atoms  any  object  that  might  be  caught 
between  them.  They  were  called  the  Symplegades,  or 
Clashing  Islands.  Phineus  instructed  the  Argonauts 
how  to  pass  this  dangerous  strait.  When  they  reached 
the  islands  they  let  go  a  dove,  which  took  her  way  be¬ 
tween  the  rocks,  and  passed  in  safety,  only  losing  some 
feathers  of  her  tail.  Jason  and  his  men  seized  the 
favorable  moment  of  the  rebound,  plied  their  oars  with 
vigor,  and  passed  safe  through,  though  the  islands  closed 
behind  them,  and  actually  grazed  their  stern.  They  now 
rowed  along  the  shore  till  they  arrived  at  the  eastern 
end  of  the  sea,  and  landed  at  the  kingdom  of  Colchis. 

Jason  made  known  his  message  to  the  Colchian  king, 
TLetes,  who  consented  to  give  up  the  golden  fleece  if 
Jason  would  yoke  to  the  plough  two  fire-breathing  bulls 
with  brazen  feet,  and  sow  the  teeth  of  the  dragon 
which  Cadmus  had  slain,  and  from  which  it  was  well 
known  that  a  crop  of  armed  men  would  spring  up, 
who  would  turn  their  weapons  against  their  producer. 
Jason  accepted  the  conditions,  and  a  time  was  set  for 
making  the  experiment.  Previously,  however,  he  found 
means  to  plead  his  cause  to  Medea,  daughter  of  the  king. 
He  promised  her  marriage,  and  as  they  stood  before  the 
altar  of  Hecate,  called  the  goddess  to  witness  his  oath. 
Medea  yielded,  and  by  her  aid,  for  she  was  a  potent 
sorceress,  he  was  furnished  with  a  charm,  by  which  he 
could  encounter  safely  the  breath  of  the  fire-breathing 
bulls  and  the  weapons  of  the  armed  men. 

At  the  time  appointed,  the  people  assembled  at  the 
grove  of  Mars,  and  the  king  assumed  his  royal  seat,' 
while  the  multitude  covered  the  hill-sides.  The  brazen¬ 
footed  bulls  rushed  in,  breathing  fire  from  their  nostrils 
that  burned  up  the  herbage  as  they  passed.  The  sound 
was  like  the  roar  of  a  furnace,  and  the  smoke  like  that 
of  water  upon  quick-lime.  Jason  advanced  boldly  to 
meet  them.  His  friends,  the  chosen  heroes  of  Greece, 
trembled  to  behold  him.  Regardless  of  the  burning 
breath,  he  soothed  their  rage  with  his  voice,  patted  their 
necks  with  fearless  hand,  and  adroitly  slipped  over  them 
the  yoke,  and  compelled  them  to  drag  the  plough.  The 
Colchians  were  amazed;  the  Greeks  shouted  for  joy. 


132  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


Jason  next  proceeded  to  sow  the  dragon’s  teeth  and 
plough  them  in.  And  soon  the  crop  of  armed  men 
sprang  up,  and,  wonderful  to  relate !  no  sooner  had  they 
reached  the  surface  than  they  began  to  brandish  their 
weapons  and  rush  upon  Jason.  The  Greeks  trembled  for 
their  hero,  and  even  she  who  had  provided  him  a  way 
of  safety  and  taught  him  how  to  use  it,  Medea  herself, 
grew  pale  with  fear.  Jason  for  a  time  kept  his  assail¬ 
ants  at  bay  with  his  sword  and  shield,  till,  finding  their 
numbers  overwhelming,  he  resorted  to  the  charm  which 
Medea  had  taught  him,  seized  a  stone  and  threw  it  in 
the  midst  of  his  foes.  They  immediately  turned  their 
arms  against  one  another,  and  soon  there  was  not  one 
of  the  dragon’s  brood  left  alive.  The  Greeks  embraced 
their  hero,  and  Medea,  if  she  dared,  would  have  em¬ 
braced  him  too. 

It  remained  to  lull  to  sleep  the  dragon  that  guarded 
the  fleece,  and  this  was  done  by  scattering  over  him  a 
few  drops  of  a  preparation  which  Medea  had  supplied. 
At  the  smell  he  relaxed  his  rage,  stood  for  a  moment 
motionless,  then  shut  those  great  round  eyes,  that  had 
never  been  known  to  shut  before,  and  turned  over  on 
his  side,  fast  asleep.  Jason  seized  the  fleece  and  with 
his  friends  and  Medea  accompanying,  hastened  to  their 
vessel  before  yEetes  the  king  could  arrest  their  depart¬ 
ure,  and  made  the  best  of  their  way  back  to  Thessaly, 
where  they  arrived  safe,  and  Jason  delivered  the  fleece 
to  Pelias,  and  dedicated  the  “Argo”  to  Neptune.  What 
became  of  the  fleece  afterwards  we  do  not  know,  but 
perhaps  it  was  found  after  all,  like  many  other  golden 
prizes,  not  worth  the  trouble  it  had  cost  to  procure  it. 

This  is  one  of  those  mythological  tales,  says  a  late 
writer,  in  which  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  a  sub¬ 
stratum  of  truth  exists,  though  overlaid  by  a  mass  of 
fiction.  It  probably  was  the  first  important  maritime 
expedition,  and  like  the  first  attempts  of  the  kind  of  all 
nations,  as  we  know  from  history,  was  probably  of  a 
half-piratical  character.  If  rich  spoils  were  the  result 
it  was  enough  to  give  rise  to  the  idea  of  the  golden 
fleece. 


THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE 


133 


Another  suggestion  of  a  learned  mythologist,  Bryant, 
is  that  it  is  a  corrupt  tradition  of  the  story  of  Noah  and 
the  ark.  The  name  “Argo”  seems  to  countenance  this, 
and  the  incident  of  the  dove  is  another  confirmation. 

Pope,  in  his  “Ode  on  St.  Cecilia’s  Day,”  thus  cele¬ 
brates  the  launching  of  the  ship  “Argo,”  and  the  power 
of  the  music  of  Orpheus,  whom  he  calls  the  Thracian: 

“  So  when  the  first  bold  vessel  dared  the  seas, 

High  on  the  stern  the  Thracian  raised  his  strain, 

While  Argo  saw  her  kindred  trees 
Descend  from  Pelion  to  the  main. 

Transported  demigods  stood  round, 

And  men  grew  heroes  at  the  sound.” 


In  Dyer’s  poem  of  “The  Fleece”  there  is  an  account 
of  the  ship  “Argo”  and  her  crew,  which  gives  a  good 
picture  of  this  primitive  maritime  adventure: 


“From  every  region  of  /Egea’s  shore 
The  brave  assembled ;  those  illustrious  twins 
Castor  and  Pollux;  Orpheus,  tuneful  bard; 

Zetes  and  Calais,  as  the  wind  in  speed; 

Strong  Hercules  and  many  a  chief  renowned. 

On  deep  Iolcos’  sandy  shore  they  thronged, 
Gleaming  in  armor,  ardent  of  exploits; 

And  soon,  the  laurel  cord  and  the  huge  stone 
Uplifting  to  the  deck,  unmoored  the  bark; 

Whose  keel  of  wondrous  length  the  skilful  hand 
Of  Argus  fashioned  for  the  proud  attempt; 

And  in  the  extended  keel  a  lofty  mast 
Upraised,  and  sails  full  swelling;  to  the  chiefs 
Unwonted  objects.  Now  first,  now  they  learned 
Their  bolder  steerage  over  ocean  wave, 

Led  by  the  golden  stars,  as  Chiron’s  art 
Had  marked  the  sphere  celestial,”  etc. 


Hercules  left  the  expedition  at  Mysia,  for  Hylas,  a 
youth  beloved  by  him,  having  gone  for  water,  was  laid 
hold  of  and  kept  by  the  nymphs  of  the  spring,  who 
were  fascinated  by  his  beauty.  Hercules  went  in  quest 
of  the  lad,  and  while  he  was  absent  the  “Argo”  put  to 
sea  and  left  him.  Moore,  in  one  of  his  songs,  makes 
a  beautiful  allusion  to  this  incident : 


134  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


“When  Hylas  was  sent  with  his  urn  to  the  fount, 

Through  fields  full  of  light  and  with  heart  full  of  play, 
Light  rambled  the  boy  over  meadow  and  mount, 

And  neglected  his  task  for  the  flowers  in  the  way. 

“Thus  many  like  me,  who  in  youth  should  have  tasted 
The  fountain  that  runs  by  Philosophy’s  shrine, 

Their  time  with  the  flowers  on  the  margin  have  wasted, 
And  left  their  light  urns  all  as  empty  as  mine.” 


MEDEA  AND  ^ESON 

Amid  the  rejoicings  for  the  recovery  of  the  Golden 
Fleece,  Jason  felt  that  one  thing  was  wanting,  the  pres¬ 
ence  of  Hison,  his  father,  who  was  prevented  by  his 
age  and  infirmities  from  taking  part  in  them.  Jason 
said  to  Medea,  “My  spouse,  would  that  your  arts, 
whose  power  I  have  seen  so  mighty  for  my  aid,  could 
do  me  one  further  service,  take  some  years  from,  my 
life  and  add  them  to  my  father’s.”  Medea  replied, 
“Not  at  such  a  cost  shall  it  be  done,  but  if  my  art 
avails  me,  his  life  shall  be  lengthened  without  abridg¬ 
ing  yours.”  The  next  full  moon  she  issued  forth  alone, 
while  all  creatures  slept;  not  a  breath  stirred  the  fo¬ 
liage,  and  all  was  still.  To  the  stars  she  addressed  her 
incantations,  and  to  the  moon;  to  Hecate,1  the  goddess 
of  the  underworld,  and  to  Tellus  the  goddess  of  the 
earth,  by  whose  power  plants  potent  for  enchantment 
are  produced.  She  invoked  the  gods  of  the  woods  and 
caverns,  of  mountains  and  valleys,  of  lakes  and  rivers, 
of  winds  and  vapors.  While  she  spoke  the  stars  shone 
brighter,  and  presently  a  chariot  descended  through  the 
air,  drawn  by  flying  serpents.  She  ascended  it,  and 
borne  aloft  made  her  way  to  distant  regions,  where  po¬ 
tent  plants  grew  which  she  knew  how  to  select  for  her 
purpose.  Nine  nights  she  employed  in  her  search,  and 
during  that  time  came  not  within  the  doors  of  her  pal¬ 
ace  nor  under  any  roof,  and  shunned  all  intercourse 
with  mortals. 

1  Hecate  was  a  mysterious  divinity  sometimes  identified  with  Diana  and 
sometimes  with  Proserpine.  As  Diana  represents  the  moonlight  splendor 
of  night,  so  Hecate  represents  its  darkness  and  terrors.  She  was  the 
goddess  of  sorcery  and  witchcraft,  and  was  believed  to  wander  by  night 
along  the  earth,  seen  only  by  the  dogs,  whose  barking  told  her  approach. 


MEDEA  AND  /ESON 


135 


She  next  erected  two  altars,  the  one  to  Hecate,  the 
other  to  Hebe,  the  goddess  of  youth,  and  sacrificed  a 
black  sheep,  pouring  libations  of  milk  and  wine.  She 
implored  Pluto  and  his  stolen  bride  that  they  would  not 
hasten  to  take  the  old  man’s  life.  Then  she  directed 
that  ^Eson  should  be  led  forth,  and  having  thrown  him 
into  a  deep  sleep  by  a  charm,  had  him  laid  on  a  bed 
of  herbs,  like  one  dead.  Jason  and  all  others  were 
kept  away  from  the  place,  that  no  profane  eyes  might 
look  upon  her  mysteries.  Then,  with  streaming  hair, 
she  thrice  moved  round  the  altars,  dipped  flaming  twigs 
in  the  blood,  and  laid  them  thereon  to  burn.  Mean¬ 
while  the  caldron  with  its  contents  was  got  ready.  In 
it  she  put  magic  herbs,  with  seeds  and  flowers  of  acrid 
juice,  stones  from  the  distant  east,  and  sand  from  the 
shore  of  all-surrounding  ocean;  hoar  frost,  gathered  by 
moonlight,  a  screech  owl’s  head  and  wings,  and  the  en¬ 
trails  of  a  wolf.  She  added  fragments  of  the  shells 
of  tortoises,  and  the  liver  of  stags, — animals  tenacious 
of  life, — and  the  head  and  beak  of  a  crow,  that  out¬ 
lives  nine  generations  of  men.  These  with  many  other 
things  “without  a  name”  she  boiled  together  for  her 
purposed  work,  stirring  them  up  with  a  dry  olive 
branch ;  and  behold !  the  branch  when  taken  out  in¬ 
stantly  became  green,  and  before  long  was  covered  with 
leaves  and  a  plentiful  growth  of  young  olives;  and  as 
the  liquor  boiled  and  bubbled,  and  sometimes  ran  over, 
the  grass  wherever  the  sprinklings  fell  shot  forth  with 
a  verdure  like  that  of  spring. 

Seeing  that  all  was  ready,  Medea  cut  the  throat  of 
the  old  man  and  let  out  all  his  blood,  and  poured  into 
his  mouth  and  into  his  wound  the  juices  of  her  caldron. 
As  soon  as  he  had  completely  imbibed  them,  his  hair 
and  beard  laid  by  their  whiteness  and  assumed  the  black¬ 
ness  of  youth ;  his  paleness  and  emaciation  were  gone ; 
his  veins  were  full  of  blood,  his  limbs  of  vigor  and 
robustness.  Hison  is  amazed  at  himself,  and  remembers 
that  such  as  he  now  is,  he  was  in  his  youthful  days, 
forty  years  before. 

Medea  used  her  arts  here  for  a  good  purpose,  but 
not  so  in  another  instance,  where  she  made  them  the 


136  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


instruments  of  revenge.  Pelias,  our  readers  will  recol¬ 
lect,  was  the  usurping  uncle  of  Jason,  and  had  kept  him 
out  of  his  kingdom.  Yet  he  must  have  had  some  good 
qualities,  for  his  daughters  loved  him,  and  when  they 
saw  what  Medea  had  done  for  TEson,  they  wished  her 
to  do  the  same  for  their  father.  Medea  pretended  to 
consent,  and  prepared  her  caldron  as  before.  At  her 
request  an  old  sheep  was  brought  and  plunged  into  the 
caldron.  Very  soon  a  bleating  was  heard  in  the  kettle, 
and  when  the  cover  was  removed,  a  lamb  jumped  forth 
and  ran  frisking  away  into  the  meadow.  The  daughters 
of  Pelias  saw  the  experiment  with  delight,  and  appointed 
a  time  for  their  father  to  undergo  the  same  operation. 
But  Medea  prepared  her  caldron  for  him  in  a  very 
different  way.  She  put  in  only  water  and  a  few  simple 
herbs.  In  the  night  she  with  the  sisters  entered  the 
bed  chamber  of  the  old  king,  while  he  and  his  guards 
slept  soundly  under  the  influence  of  a  spell  cast  upon 
them  by  Medea.  The  daughters  stood  by  the  bedside 
with  their  weapons  drawn,  but  hesitated  to  strike,  till 
Medea  chid  their  irresolution.  Then  turning  away  their 
faces,  and  giving  random  blows,  they  smote  him  with 
their  weapons.  He,  starting  from  his  sleep,  cried  out, 
“My  daughters,  what  are  you  doing?  Will  you  kill 
your  father?”  Their  hearts  failed  them  and  their  weap¬ 
ons  fell  from  their  hands,  but  Medea  struck  him  a  fatal 
blow,  and  prevented  his  saying  more. 

Then  they  placed  him  in  the  caldron,  and  Medea 
hastened  to  depart  in  her  serpent-drawn  chariot  before 
they  discovered  her  treachery,  or  their  vengeance  would 
have  been  terrible.  She  escaped,  however,  but  had  little 
enjoyment  of  the  fruits  of  her  crime.  Jason,  for  whom 
she  had  done  so  much,  wishing  to  marry  Creusa,  princess 
of  Corinth,  put  away  Medea.  She,  enraged  at  his  in¬ 
gratitude,  called  on  the  gods  for  vengeance,  sent  a  pois¬ 
oned  robe  as  a  gift  to  the  bride,  and  then  killing  her 
own  children,  and  setting  fire  to  the  palace,  mounted 
her  serpent-drawn  chariot  and  fled  to  Athens,  where 
she  married  King  iEgeus,  the  father  of  Theseus,  and 
we  shall  meet  her  again  when  we  come  to  the  adven¬ 
tures  of  that  hero. 


MEDEA  AND  /ESON 


137 


The  incantations  of  Medea  will  remind  the  reader 
of  those  of  the  witches  in  “Macbeth.”  The  following 
lines  are  those  which  seem  most  strikingly  to  recall  the 
ancient  model: 

“Round  about  the  caldron  go; 

In  the  poisoned  entrails  throw. 

•  •••••• 

Fillet  of  a  fenny  snake 
In  the  caldron  boil  and  bake; 

Eye  of  newt  and  toe  of  frog, 

Wool  of  bat  and  tongue  of  dog, 

Adder’s  fork  and  biind-worm’s  sting, 

Lizard’s  leg  and  howlet’s  wing: 

Maw  of  ravening  salt-sea  shark, 

Root  of  hemlock  digged  in  the  dark,”  etc. 

— Macbeth,  Act  IV.,  Scene  1 


And  again: 

Macbeth . — What  is’t  you  do? 

Witches. — A  deed  without  a  name. 

There  is  another  story  of  Medea  almost  too  revolting 
for  record  even  of  a  sorceress,  a  class  of  persons  to 
whom  both  ancient  and  modern  poets  have  been  accus¬ 
tomed  to  attribute  every  degree  of  atrocity.  In  her 
flight  from  Colchis  she  had  taken  her  young  brother 
Absyrtus  with  her.  Finding  the  pursuing  vessels  of 
^Eetes  gaining  upon  the  Argonauts,  she  caused  the  lad 
to  be  killed  and  his  limbs  to  be  strewn  over  the  sea. 
^Eetes  on  reaching  the  place  found  these  sorrowful 
traces  of  his  murdered  son;  but  while  he  tarried  to 
collect  the  scattered  fragments  and  bestow  upon  them 
an  honorable  interment,  the  Argonauts  escaped. 

In  the  poems  of  Campbell  will  be  found  a  transla¬ 
tion  of  one  of  the  choruses  of  the  tragedy  of  “Medea,” 
where  the  poet  Euripides  has  taken  advantage  of  the 
occasion  to  pay  a  glowing  tribute  to  Athens,  his  native 
city.  It  begins  thus : 

“O  haggard  queen !  to  Athens  dost  thou  guide 
Thy  glowing  chariot,  steeped  in  kindred  gore; 

Or  seek  to  hide  thy  damned  parricide 
Where  peace  and  justice  dwell  for  evermore?” 


138  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

MELEAGER  AND  ATALANTA 

One  of  the  heroes  of  the  Argonautic  expedition  was 
Meleager,  son  of  QEneus  and  Althea,  king  and  queen 
of  Calydon.  Althea,  when  her  son  was  born,  beheld 
the  three  destinies,  who,  as  they  spun  their  fatal  thread, 
foretold  that  the  life  of  the  child  should  last  no  longer 
than  a  brand  then  burning  upon  the  hearth.  Althea 
seized  and  quenched  the  brand,  and  carefully  preserved 
it  for  years,  while  Meleager  grew  to  boyhood,  youth,  and 
manhood.  It  chanced,  then,  that  (Eneus,  as  he  offered 
sacrifices  to  the  gods,  omitted  to  pay  due  honors  to 
Diana ;  and  she,  indignant  at  the  neglect,  sent  a  wild 
boar  of  enormous  size  to  lay  waste  the  fields  of  Caly¬ 
don.  Its  eyes  shone  with  blood  and  fire,  its  bristles  stood 
like  threatening  spears,  its  tusks  were  like  those  of  In¬ 
dian  elephants.  The  growing  corn  was  trampled,  the 
vines  and  olive  trees  laid  waste,  the  flocks  and  herds 
were  driven  in  wild  confusion  by  the  slaughtering  foe. 
All  common  aid  seemed  vain;  but  Meleager  called  on 
the  heroes  of  Greece  to  join  in  a  bold  hunt  for  the 
ravenous  monster.  Theseus  and  his  friend  Pirithous, 
Jason,  Peleus,  afterwards  the  father  of  Achilles,  Tela¬ 
mon  the  father  of  Ajax,  Nestor,  then  a  youth,  but  who 
in  his  age  bore  arms  with  Achilles  and  Ajax  in  the 
Trojan  war, — these  and  many  more  joined  in  the  enter¬ 
prise.  With  them  came  Atalanta,  the  daughter  of  Iasius, 1 
king  of  Arcadia.  A  buckle  of  polished  gold  confined  her 
vest,  an  ivory  quiver  hung  on  her  left  shoulder,  and  her 
left  hand  bore  the  bow.  Her  face  blent  feminine  beauty 
with  the  best  graces  of  martial  youth.  Meleager  saw 
and  loved. 

But  now  already  they  were  near  the  monster’s  lair. 
They  stretched  strong  nets  from  tree  to  tree;  they  un¬ 
coupled  their  dogs,  they  tried  to  find  the  footprints  of 
their  quarry  in  the  grass.  From  the  wood  was  a  de¬ 
scent  to  marshy  ground.  Here  the  boar,  as  he  lay 


MELEAGER  AND  ATALANTA 


139 


among  the  reeds,  heard  the  shouts  of  his  pursuers,  and 
rushed  forth  against  them.  One  and  another  is  thrown 
down  and  slain.  Jason  throws  his  spear,  with  a  prayer 
to  Diana  for  success ;  and  the  favoring  goddess  allows 
the  weapon  to  touch,  but  not  to  wound,  removing  the 
steel  point  of  the  spear  in  its  flight.  Nestor,  assailed, 
seeks  and  finds  safety  in  the  branches  of  a  tree.  Tela¬ 
mon  rushes  on,  but  stumbling  at  a  projecting  root,  falls 
prone.  But  an  arrow  from  Atalanta  at  length  for  the 
first  time  tastes  the  monster’s  blood.  It  is  a  slight  wound, 
but  Meleager  sees  and  joyfully  proclaims  it.  Anceus, 
excited  to  envy  by  the  praise  given  to  a  female,  loudly 
proclaims  his  own  valor,  and  defies  alike  the  boar  and 
the  goddess  who  had  sent  it;  but  as  he  rushes  on,  the 
infuriated  beast  lays  him  low  with  a  mortal  wound. 
Theseus  throws  his  lance,  but  it  is  turned  aside  by  a 
projecting  bough.  The  dart  of  Jason  misses  its  object, 
and  kills  instead  one  of  their  own  dogs.  But  Meleager, 
after  one  unsuccessful  stroke,  drives  his  spear  into  the 
monster’s  side,  then  rushes  on  and  despatches  him  with 
repeated  blows. 

Then  rose  a  shout  from  those  around;  they  congratu¬ 
lated  the  conqueror,  crowding  to  touch  his  hand.  He, 
placing  his  foot  upon  the  head  of  the  slain  boar,  turned 
to  Atalanta  and  bestowed  on  her  the  head  and  the  rough 
hide  which  were  the  trophies  of  his  success.  But  at 
this,  envy  excited  the  rest  to  strife.  Plexippus  and 
Toxeus,  the  brothers  of  Meleager’s  mother,  beyond  the 
rest  opposed  the  gift,  and  snatched  from  the  maiden 
the  trophy  she  had  received.  Meleager,  kindling  with 
rage  at  the  wrong  done  to  himself,  and  still  more  at 
the  insult  offered  to  her  whom  he  loved,  forgot  the 
claims  of  kindred,  and  plunged  his  sword  into  the  of¬ 
fenders’  hearts. 

As  Althea  bore  gifts  of  thankfulness  to  the  temples 
for  the  victory  of  her  son,  the  bodies  of  her  murdered 
brothers  met  her  sight.  She  shrieks,  and  beats  her 
breast,  and  hastens  to  change  the  garments  of  rejoicing 
for  those  of  mourning.  But  when  the  author  of  the 
deed  is  known,  grief  gives  way  to  the  stern  desire  of 
vengeance  on  her  son.  The  fatal  brand,  which  once 


140  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


she  rescued  from  the  flames,  the  brand  which  the  des¬ 
tinies  had  linked  with  Meleager’s  life,  she  brings  forth, 
and  commands  a  fire  to  be  prepared.  Then  four  times 
she  essays  to  place  the  brand  upon  the  pile;  four  times 
draws  back,  shuddering  at  the  thought  of  bringing  de¬ 
struction  on  her  son.  The  feelings  of  the  mother  and 
the  sister  contend  within  her.  Now  she  is  pale  at  the 
thought  of  the  proposed  deed,  now  flushed  again  with 
anger  at  the  act  of  her  son.  As  a  vessel,  driven  in  one 
direction  by  the  wind,  and  in  the  opposite  by  the  tide, 
the  mind  of  Althea  hangs  suspended  in  uncertainty.  But 
now  the  sister  prevails  above  the  mother,  and  she  begins 
as  she  holds  the  fatal  wood:  “Turn,  ye  Furies,  god¬ 
desses  of  punishment !  turn  to  behold  the  sacrifice  I 
bring!  Crime  must  atone  for  crime.  Shall  CEneus  re¬ 
joice  in  his  victor  son,  while  the  house  of  Thestius  is 
desolate  ?  But,  alas !  to  what  deed  am  I  borne  along  ? 
Brothers  forgive  a  mother’s  weakness !  my  hand  fails 
me.  He  deserves  death,  but  not  that  I  should  destroy 
him.  But  shall  he  then  live,  and  triumph,  and  reign 
over  Calydon,  while  you,  my  brothers,  wander  unavenged 
among  the  shades?  No  !  thou  hast  lived  by  my  gift ;  die, 
now,  for  thine  own  crime.  Return  the  life  which  twice 
I  gave  thee,  first  at  thy  birth,  again  when  I  snatched 
this  brand  from  the  flames.  O  that  thou  hadst  then  died ! 
Alas !  evil  is  the  conquest ;  but,  brothers,  ye  have  con¬ 
quered.”  And,  turning  away  her  face,  she  threw  the 
fatal  wood  upon  the  burning  pile. 

It  gave,  or  seemed  to  give,  a  deadly  groan.  Meleager, 
absent  and  unknowing  of  the  cause,  felt  a  sudden  pang. 
He  burns,  and  only  by  courageous  pride  conquers  the 
pain  which  destroys  him.  He  mourns  only  that  he  per¬ 
ishes  by  a  bloodless  and  unhonored  death.  With  his 
last  breath  he  calls  upon  his  aged  father,  his  brother, 
and  his  fond  sisters,  upon  his  beloved  Atalanta,  and 
upon  his  mother,  the  unknown  cause  of  his  fate.  The 
flames  increase,  and  with  them  the  pain  of  the  hero. 
Now  both  subside;  now  both  are  quenched.  The  brand 
is  ashes,  and  the  life  of  Meleager  is  breathed  forth  to 
the  wandering  winds. 

Althea,  when  the  deed  was  done,  laid  violent  hands 


ATALANTA 


141 


upon  herself.  The  sisters  of  Meleager  mourned  their 
brother  with  uncontrollable  grief ;  till  Diana,  pitying  the 
sorrows  of  the  house  that  once  had  aroused  her  anger, 
turned  them  into  birds. 


ATALANTA 

The  innocent  cause  of  so  much  sorrow  was  a  maiden 
whose  face  you  might  truly  say  was  boyish  for  a  girl, 
yet  too  girlish  for  a  boy.  Her  fortune  had  been  told, 
and  it  was  to  this  effect:  “Atalanta,  do  not  marry;  mar¬ 
riage  will  be  your  ruin.”  Terrified  by  this  oracle,  she 
fled  the  society  of  men,  and  devoted  herself  to  the  sports 
of  the  chase.  To  all  suitors  (for  she  had  many)  she 
imposed  a  condition  which  was  generally  effectual  in 
relieving  her  of  their  persecutions, — “I  will  be  the  prize 
of  him  who  shall  conquer  me  in  the  race ;  but  death  must 
be  the  penalty  of  all  who  try  and  fail.”  In  spite  of  this 
hard  condition  some  would  try.  Hippomenes  was  to  be 
judge  of  the  race.  “Can  it  be  possible  that  any  will  be 
so  rash  as  to  risk  so  much  for  a  wife?”  said  he.  But 
when  he  saw  her  lay  aside  her  robe  for  the  race,  he 
changed  his  mind,  and  said,  “Pardon  me,  youths,  I  knew 
not  the  prize  you  were  competing  for.”  As  he  surveyed 
them  he  wished  them  all  to  be  beaten,  and  swelled  with 
envy  of  any  one  that  seemed  at  all  likely  to  win.  While 
such  were  his  thoughts,  the  virgin  darted  forward.  As 
she  ran  she  looked  more  beautiful  than  ever.  The 
breezes  seemed  to  give  wings  to  her  feet;  her  hair  flevt 
over  her  shoulders,  and  the  gay  fringe  of  her  garment 
fluttered  behind  her.  A  ruddy  hue  tinged  the  whiteness 
of  her  skin,  such  as  a  crimson  curtain  casts  on  a  marble 
wall.  All  her  competitors  were  distanced,  and  were  put 
to  death  without  mercy.  Hippomenes,  not  daunted  by 
this  result,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  virgin,  said,  “Why 
boast  of  beating  those  laggards?  I  offer  myself  for  the 
contest.”  Atalanta  looked  at  him  with  a  pitying  coun¬ 
tenance,  and  hardly  knew  whether  she  would  rather  con¬ 
quer  him  or  not.  “What  god  can  tempt  one  so  young 
and  handsome  to  throw  himself  away?  I  pity  him,  not 
for  his  beauty  (yet  he  is  beautiful),  but  for  his  youth. 


142  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


I  wish  he  would  give  up  the  race,  or  if  he  will  be  so 
mad,  I  hope  he  may  outrun  me.”  While  she  hesitates, 
revolving  these  thoughts,  the  spectators  grow  impatient 
for  the  race,  and  her  father  prompts  her  to  prepare. 
Then  Hippomenes  addressed  a  prayer  to  Venus :  “Help 
me,  Venus,  for  you  have  led  me  on.”  Venus  heard  and 
was  propitious. 

In  the  garden  of  her  temple,  in  her  own  island  of 
Cyprus,  is  a  tree  with  yellow  leaves  and  yellow  branches 
and  golden  fruit.  Hence  she  gathered  three  golden  ap¬ 
ples,  and,  unseen  by  any  one  else,  gave  them  to  Hippo¬ 
menes,  and  told  him  how  to  use  them.  The  signal  is 
given ;  each  starts  from  the  goal  and  skims  over  the 
sand.  So  light  their  tread,  you  would  almost  have 
thought  they  might  run  over  the  river  surface  or  over 
the  waving  grain  without  sinking.  The  cries  of  the 
spectators  cheered  Hippomenes, — “Now,  now,  do  your 
best !  haste,  haste !  you  gain  on  her !  relax  not !  one  more 
effort !”  It  was  doubtful  whether  the  youth  or  the  maiden 
heard  these  cries  with  the  greater  pleasure.  But  his 
breath  began  to  fail  him,  his  throat  was  dry,  the  goal 
yet  far  off.  At  that  moment  he  threw  down  one  of  the 
golden  apples.  The  virgin  was  all  amazement.  She 
stopped  to  pick  it  up.  Hippomenes  shot  ahead.  Shouts 
burst  forth  from  all  sides.  She  redoubled  her  efforts, 
and  soon  overtook  him.  Again  he  threw  an  apple.  She 
stopped  again,  but  again  came  up  with  him.  The  goal 
was  near;  one  chance  only  remained.  “Now,  goddess,” 
said  he,  “prosper  your  gift !”  and  threw  the  last  apple 
off  at  one  side.  She  looked  at  it,  and  hesitated;  Venus 
impelled  her  to  turn  aside  for  it.  She  did  so,  and  was 
vanquished.  The  youth  carried  off  his  prize. 

But  the  lovers  were  so  full  of  their  own  happiness 
that  they  forgot  to  pay  due  honor  to  Venus;  and  the 
goddess  was  provoked  at  their  ingratitude.  She  caused 
them  to  give  offence  to  Cybele.  That  powerful  goddess 
was  not  to  be  insulted  with  impunity.  She  took  from 
them  their  human  form  and  turned  them  into  animals 
of  characters  resembling  their  own :  of  the  huntress- 
heroine,  triumphing  in  the  blood  of  her  lovers,  she  made 
a  lioness,  and  of  her  lord  and  master  a  lion,  and  yoked 


HERCULES 


143 


them  to  her  car,  where  they  are  still  to  be  seen  in  all 
representations,  in  statuary  or  painting,  of  the  goddess 
Cybele. 

Cybele  is  the  Latin  name  of  the  goddess  called  by 
the  Greeks  Rhea  and  Ops.  She  was  the  wife  of  Cronos 
and  mother  of  Zeus.  In  works  of  art  she  exhibits  the 
matronly  air  which  distinguishes  Juno  and  Ceres.  Some¬ 
times  she  is  veiled,  and  seated  on  a  throne  with  lions  at 
her  side,  at  other  times  riding  in  a  chariot  drawn  by 
lions.  She  wears  a  mural  crown,  that  is,  a  crown  whose 
rim  is  carved  in  the  form  of  towers  and  battlements. 
Her  priests  were  called  Corybantes. 

Byron,  in  describing  the  city  of  Venice,  which  is  built 
on  a  low  island  in  the  Adriatic  Sea,  borrows  an  illus¬ 
tration  from  Cybele: 

“She  looks  a  sea-Cybele  fresh  from  ocean, 

Rising  with  her  tiara  of  proud  towers 
At  airy  distance,  with  majestic  motion, 

A  ruler  of  the  waters  and  their  powers.” 

— Childe  Harold,  IV. 

In  Moore’s  “Rhymes  on  the  Road,”  the  poet,  speaking 
of  Alpine  scenery,  alludes  to  the  story  of  Atalanta  and 
Hippomenes  thus : 

“Even  here,  in  this  region  of  wonders,  I  find 
That  light-footed  Fancy  leaves  Truth  far  behind, 

Or  at  least,  like  Hippomenes,  turns  her  astray 
By  the  golden  illusions  he  flings  in  her  way.” 


CHAPTER  XIX 

HERCULES - HEBE  AND  GANYMEDE 

HERCULES 

Hercules  was  the  son  of  Jupiter  and  Alcmena.  As 
Juno  was  always  hostile  to  the  offspring  of  her  husband 
by  mortal  mothers,  she  declared  war  against  Hercules 


144  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


from  his  birth.  She  sent  two  serpents  to  destroy  him  as 
he  lay  in  his  cradle,  but  the  precocious  infant  strangled 
them  with  his  own  hands.  He  was,  however,  by  the 
arts  of  Juno  rendered  subject  to  Eurystheus  and  com¬ 
pelled  to  perform  all  his  commands.  Eurystheus  en¬ 
joined  upon  him  a  succession  of  desperate  adventures, 
which  are  called  the  “Twelve  Labors  of  Hercules.”  The 
first  was  the  fight  with  the  Nemean  lion.  The  valley 
of  Nemea  was  infested  by  a  terrible  lion.  Eurystheus 
ordered  Hercules  to  bring  him  the  skin  of  this  monster. 
After  using  in  vain  his  club  and  arrows  against  the  lion, 
Hercules  strangled  the  animal  with  his  hands.  He  re¬ 
turned  carrying  the  dead  lion  on  his  shoulders;  but 
Eurystheus  was  so  frightened  at  the  sight  of  it  and  at 
this  proof  of  the  prodigious  strength  of  the  hero,  that 
he  ordered  him  to  deliver  the  account  of  his  exploits 
in  future  outside  the  town. 

His  next  labor  was  the  slaughter  of  the  Hydra.  This 
monster  ravaged  the  country  of  Argos,  and  dwelt  in  a 
swamp  near  the  well  of  Amymone.  This  well  had  been 
discovered  by  Amymone  when  the  country  was  suffering 
from  drought,  and  the  story  was  that  Neptune,  who  loved 
her,  had  permitted  her  to  touch  the  rock  with  his  trident, 
and  a  spring  of  three  outlets  burst  forth.  Here  the 
Hydra  took  up  his  position,  and  Hercules  was  sent  to 
destroy  him.  The  Hydra  had  nine  heads,  of  which  the 
middle  one  was  immortal.  Hercules  struck  off  its  heads 
with  his  club,  but  in  the  place  of  the  head  knocked  off, 
two  new  ones  grew  forth  each  time.  At  length  with 
the  assistance  of  his  faithful  servant  Iolaus,  he  burned 
away  the  heads  of  the  Hydra,  and  buried  the  ninth  or 
immortal  one  under  a  huge  rock. 

Another  labor  was  the  cleaning  of  the  Augean  stables. 
Augeas,  king  of  Elis,  had  a  herd  of  three  thousand  oxen, 
whose  stalls  had  not  been  cleansed  for  thirty  years.  Her¬ 
cules  brought  the  rivers  Alpheus  and  Peneus  through 
them,  and  cleansed  them  thoroughly  in  one  day. 

His  next  labor  was  of  a  more  delicate  kind.  Admeta, 
the  daughter  of  Eurystheus,  longed  to  obtain  the  girdle 
of  the  queen  of  the  Amazons,  and  Eurystheus  ordered 
Hercules  to  go  and  get  it.  The  Amazons  were  a  nation 


HERCULES 


145 


of  women.  They  were  very  warlike  and  held  several 
flourishing  cities.  It  was  their  custom  to  bring  up  only 
the  female  children ;  the  boys  were  either  sent  away  to 
the  neighboring  nations  or  put  to  death.  Hercules  was 
accompanied  by  a  number  of  volunteers,  and  after  vari¬ 
ous  adventures  at  last  reached  the  country  of  the  Ama¬ 
zons.  Hippolyta,  the  queen,  received  him  kindly,  and 
consented  to  yield  him  her  girdle,  but  Juno,  taking  the 
form  of  an  Amazon,  went  and  persuaded  the  rest  that 
the  strangers  were  carrying  off  their  queen.  They  in¬ 
stantly  armed  and  came  in  great  numbers  down  to  the 
ship.  Hercules,  thinking  that  Hippolyta  had  acted 
treacherously,  slew  her,  and  taking  her  girdle  made  sail 
homewards. 

Another  task  enjoined  him  was  to  bring  to  Eurystheus 
the  oxen  of  Geryon,  a  monster  with  three  bodies,  who 
dwelt  in  the  island  Erytheia  (the  red),  so  called  because 
it  lay  at  the  west,  under  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun. 
This  description  is  thought  to  apply  to  Spain,  of  which 
Geryon  was  king.  After  traversing  various  countries, 
Hercules  reached  at  length  the  frontiers  of  Libya  and 
Europe,  where  he  raised  the  two  mountains  of  Calpe  and 
Abyla,  as  monuments  of  his  progress,  or,  according  to 
another  account,  rent  one  mountain  into  two  and  left  half 
on  each  side,  forming  the  straits  of  Gibraltar,  the  two 
mountains  being  called  the  Pillars  of  Hercules.  The 
oxen  were  guarded  by  the  giant  Eurytion  and  his  two- 
headed  dog,  but  Hercules  killed  the  giant  and  his  dog 
and  brought  away  the  oxen  in  safety  to  Eurystheus. 

The  most  difficult  labor  of  all  was  getting  the  golden 
apples  of  the  Hesperides,  for  Hercules  did  not  know 
where  to  find  them.  These  were  the  apples  which  Juno 
had  received  at  her  wedding  from  the  goddess  of  the 
Earth,  and  which  she  had  intrusted  to  the  keeping  of 
the  daughters  of  Hesperus,  assisted  by  a  watchful  dragon. 
After  various  adventures  Hercules  arrived  at  Mount 
Atlas  in  Africa.  Atlas  was  one  of  the  Titans  who  had 
warred  against  the  gods,  and  after  they  were  subdued, 
Atlas  was  condemned  to  bear  on  his  shoulders  the  weight 
of  the  heavens.  He  was  the  father  of  the  Hesperides, 
and  Hercules  thought  might,  if  any  one  could,  find  the 


146  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


apples  and  bring  them  to  him.  But  how  to  send  Atlas 
away  from  his  post,  or  bear  up  the  heavens  while  he 
was  gone?  Hercules  took  the  burden  on  his  own  shoul¬ 
ders,  and  sent  Atlas  to  seek  the  apples.  He  returned 
with  them,  and  though  somewhat  reluctantly,  took  his 
burden  upon  his  shoulders  again,  and  let  Hercules  re¬ 
turn  with  the  apples  to  Eurystheus. 

Milton,  in  his  “Comus,”  makes  the  Hesperides  the 
daughters  of  Hesperus  and  nieces  of  Atlas: 

“.  .  .  amidst  the  gardens  fair 

Of  Hesperus  and  his  daughters  three,  x 

That  sing  about  the  golden  tree.” 

The  poets,  led  by  the  analogy  of  the  lovely  appear¬ 
ance  of  the  western  sky  at  sunset,  viewed  the  west  as 
a  region  of  brightness  and  glory.  Hence  they  placed  in 
it  the  Isles  of  the  Blest,  the  ruddy  Isle  Erythea,  on 
which  the  bright  oxen  of  Geryon  were  pastured,  and 
the  Isle  of  the  Hesperides.  The  apples  are  supposed 
by  some  to  be  the  oranges  of  Spain,  of  which  the  Greeks 
had  heard  some  obscure  accounts. 

A  celebrated  exploit  of  Hercules  was  his  victory  over 
Antaeus.  Antaeus,  the  son  of  Terra,  the  Earth,  was  a 
mighty  giant  and  wrestler,  whose  strength  was  invincible 
so  long  as  he  remained  in  contact  with  his  mother  Earth. 
He  compelled  all  strangers  who  came  to  his  country  to 
wrestle  with  him,  on  condition  that  if  conquered  (as 
they  all  were)  they  should  be  put  to  death.  Hercules 
encountered  him,  and  finding  that  it  was  of  no  avail 
to  throw  him,  for  he  always  rose  with  renewed  strength 
from  every  fall,  he  lifted  him  up  from  the  earth  and 
strangled  him  in  the  air. 

Cacus  was  a  huge  giant,  who  inhabited  a  cave  on 
Mount  Aventine,  and  plundered  the  surrounding  coun¬ 
try.  When  Hercules  was  driving  home  the  oxen  of 
Geryon,  Cacus  stole  part  of  the  cattle,  while  the  hero 
slept.  That  their  footprints  might  not  serve  to  show 
where  they  had  been  driven,  he  dragged  them  back- 


HERCULES 


147 


ward  by  their  tails  to  his  cave ;  so  their  tracks  all  seemed 
to  show  that  they  had  gone  in  the  opposite  direction. 
Hercules  was  deceived  by  this  stratagem,  and  would  have 
failed  to  find  his  oxen,  if  it  had  not  happened  that  in 
driving  the  remainder  of  the  herd  past  the  cave  where 
the  stolen  ones  were  concealed,  those  within  began  to 
low,  and  were  thus  discovered.  Cacus  was  slain  by 
Hercules. 

The  last  exploit  we  shall  record  was  bringing  Cerberus 
from  the  lower  world.  Hercules  descended  into  Hades, 
accompanied  by  Mercury  and  Minerva.  He  obtained 
permission  from  Pluto  to  carry  Cerberus  to  the  upper 
air,  provided  he  could  do  it  without  the  use  of  weapons ; 
and  in  spite  of  the  monster’s  struggling,  he  seized  him, 
held  him  fast,  and  carried  him  to  Eurystheus,  and  after¬ 
wards  brought  him  back  again.  When  he  was  in  Hades 
he  obtained  the  liberty  of  Theseus,  his  admirer  and 
imitator,  who  had  been  detained  a  prisoner  there  for  an 
unsuccessful  attempt  to  carry  off  Proserpine. 

Hercules  in  a  fit  of  madness  killed  his  friend  Iphitus, 
and  was  condemned  for  this  offence  to  become  the  slave 
of  Queen  Omphale  for  three  years.  While  in  this  service 
the  hero’s  nature  seemed  changed.  He  lived  effeminately, 
wearing  at  times  the  dress  of  a  woman,  and  spinning 
wool  with  the  hand-maidens  of  Omphale,  while  the  queen 
wore  his  lion’s  skin.  When  this  service  was  ended 
he  married  Dejanira  and  lived  in  peace  with  her  three 
years.  On  one  occasion  as  he  was  travelling  with  his 
wife,  they  came  to  a  river,  across  which  the  Centaur 
Nessus  carried  travellers  for  a  stated  fee.  Hercules 
himself  forded  the  river,  but  gave  Dejanira  to  Nessus 
to  be  carried  across.  Nessus  attempted  to  run  away  with 
her,  but  Hercules  heard  her  cries  and  shot  an  arrow 
into  the  heart  of  Nessus.  The  dying  Centaur  told  De¬ 
janira  to  take  a  portion  of  his  blood  and  keep  it,  as  it 
might  be  used  as  a  charm  to  preserve  the  love  of  her 
husband. 

Dejanira  did  so  and  before  long  fancied  she  had  occa¬ 
sion  to  use  it.  Hercules  in  one  of  his  conquests  had 
taken  prisoner  a  fair  maiden,  named  Iole,  of  whom  he 
seemed  more  fond  than  Dejanira  approved.  When  Her- 


148  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


cules  was  about  to  offer  sacrifices  to  the  gods  in  honor 
of  his  victory,  he  sent  to  his  wife  for  a  white  robe  to 
use  on  the  occasion.  Dejanira,  thinking  it  a  good  oppor¬ 
tunity  to  try  her  love-spell,  steeped  the  garment  in  the 
blood  of  Nessus.  We  are  to  suppose  she  took  care 
to  wash  out  all  traces  of  it,  but  the  magic  power  re¬ 
mained,  and  as  soon  as  the  garment  became  warm  on 
the  body  of  Hercules  the  poison  penetrated  into  all  his 
limbs  and  caused  him  the  most  intense  agony.  In  his 
frenzy  he  seized  Lichas,  who  had  brought  him  the  fatal 
robe,  and  hurled  him  into  the  sea.  He  wrenched  off  the 
garment,  but  it  stuck  to  his  flesh,  and  with  it  he  tore 
away  whole  pieces  of  his  body.  In  this  state  he  em¬ 
barked  on  board  a  ship  and  was  conveyed  home.  Deja¬ 
nira,  on  seeing  what  she  had  unwittingly  done,  hung 
herself.  Hercules,  prepared  to  die,  ascended  Mount  CEta, 
where  he  built  a  funeral  pile  of  trees,  gave  his  bow  and 
arrows  to  Philoctetes,  and  laid  himself  down  on  the  pile, 
his  head  resting  on  his  club,  and  his  lion’s  skin  spread 
over  him.  With  a  countenance  as  serene  as  if  he  were 
taking  his  place  at  a  festal  board  he  commanded  Philoc¬ 
tetes  to  apply  the  torch.  The  flames  spread  apace  and 
soon  invested  the  whole  mass. 

Milton  thus  alludes  to  the  frenzy  of  Hercules : 

“As  when  Alcides,1  from  (Echalia  crowned 
With  conquest,  felt  the  envenomed  robe,  and  tore, 
Through  pain,  up  by  the  roots  Thessalian  pines 
And  Lichas  from  the  top  of  QEta  threw 
Into  the  Euboic  Sea.” 

The  gods  themselves  felt  troubled  at  seeing  the  cham¬ 
pion  of  the  earth  so  brought  to  his  end.  But  Jupiter 
with  cheerful  countenance  thus  addressed  them:  “I  am 
pleased  to  see  your  concern,  my  princes,  and  am  gratified 
to  perceive  that  I  am  the  ruler  of  a  loyal  people,  and 
that  my  son  enjoys  your  favor.  For  although  your  in¬ 
terest  in  him  arises  from  his  noble  deeds,  yet  it  is  not 
the  less  gratifying  to  me.  But  now  I  say  to  you,  Fear 
not.  He  who  conquered  all  else  is  not  to  be  conquered 

1  Alcides,  a  name  of  Hercules. 


HERCULES 


149 


by  those  flames  which  you  see  blazing  on  Mount  (Eta. 
Only  his  mother’s  share  in  him  can  perish ;  what  he 
derived  from  me  is  immortal.  I  shall  take  him,  dead 
to  earth,  to  the  heavenly  shores,  and  I  require  of  you 
all  to  receive  him  kindly.  If  any  of  you  feel  grieved 
at  his  attaining  this  honor,  yet  no  one  can  deny  that  he 
has  deserved  it.”  The  gods  all  gave  their  assent;  Juno 
only  heard  the  closing  words  with  some  displeasure  that 
she  should  be  so  particularly  pointed  at,  yet  not  enough 
to  make  her  regret  the  determination  of  her  husband. 
So  when  the  flames  had  consumed  the  mother’s  share 
of  Hercules,  the  diviner  part,  instead  of  being  injured 
thereby,  seemed  to  start  forth  with  new  vigor,  to  assume 
a  more  lofty  port  and  a  more  awful  dignity.  Jupiter 
enveloped  him  in  a  cloud,  and  took  him  up  in  a  four- 
horse  chariot  to  dwell  among  the  stars.  As  he  took  his 
place  in  heaven,  Atlas  felt  the  added  weight. 

Juno,  now  reconciled  to  him,  gave  him  her  daughter 
Hebe  in  marriage. 

The  poet  Schiller,  in  one  of  his  pieces  called  the  “Ideal 
and  Life,”  illustrates  the  contrast  between  the  practical 
and  the  imaginative  in  some  beautiful  stanzas,  of  which 
the  last  two  may  be  thus  translated: 

“Deep  degraded  to  a  coward’s  slave, 

Endless  contests  bore  Alcides  brave, 

Through  the  thorny  path  of  suffering  led; 

Slew  the  Hydra,  crushed  the  lion’s  might, 

Threw  himself,  to  bring  his  friend  to  light, 

Living,  in  the  skiff  that  bears  the  dead. 

All  the  torments,  every  toil  of  earth 
Juno’s  hatred  on  him  could  impose, 

Well  he  bore  them,  from  his  fated  birth 
To  life’s  grandly  mournful  close. 

“Till  the  god,  the  earthly  part  forsaken, 

From  the  man  in  flames  asunder  taken, 

Drank  the  heavenly  ether’s  purer  breath. 

Joyous  in  the  new  unwonted  lightness, 

Soared  he  upwards  to  celestial  brightness, 

Earth’s  dark  heavy  burden  lost  in  death. 

High  Olympus  gives  harmonious  greeting 
To  the  hall  where  reigns  his  sire  adored; 

Youth’s  bright  goddess,  with  a  blush  at  meeting. 

Gives  the  nectar  to  her  lord.”  — S.  G.  B. 


150  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


t 


HEBE  AND  GANYMEDE 

Hebe,  the  daughter  of  Juno,  and  goddess  of  youth, 
was  cup-bearer  to  the  gods.  The  usual  story  is  that 
she  resigned  her  office  on  becoming  the  wife  of  Her¬ 
cules.  But  there  is  another  statement  which  our  coun¬ 
tryman  Crawford,  the  sculptor,  has  adopted  in  his  group 
of  Hebe  and  Ganymede,  now  in  the  Athenaeum  gallery. 
According  to  this,  Hebe  was  dismissed  from  her  office 
in  consequence  of  a  fall  which  she  met  with  one  day 
when  in  attendance  on  the  gods.  Her  successor  was 
Ganymede,  a  Trojan  boy,  whom  Jupiter,  in  the  disguise 
of  an  eagle,  seized  and  carried  off  from  the  midst  of 
his  playfellows  on  Mount  Ida,  bore  up  to  fieaven,  and 
installed  in  the  vacant  place. 

Tennyson,  in  his  “Palace  of  Art,”  describes  among 
the  decorations  on  the  walls  a  picture  representing  this 
legend : 

“There,  too,  flushed  Ganymede,  his  rosy  thigh 
Half  buried  in  the  eagle’s  down, 

Sole  as  a  flying  star  shot  through  the  sky 
Above  the  pillared  town.” 

And  in  Shelley’s  “Prometheus”  Jupiter  calls  to  his 
cup-bearer  thus : 

“Pour  forth  heaven’s  wine,  Idsean  Ganymede, 

And  let  it  fill  the  Daedal  cups  like  fire.” 

The  beautiful  legend  of  the  “Choice  of  Hercules”  may 
be  found  in  the  “Tatler,”  No.  97. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THESEUS - DAEDALUS — CASTOR  AND  POLLUX 

THESEUS 

Theseus  was  the  son  of  SEgeus,  king  of  Athens,  and 
of  zEthra,  daughter  of  the  king  of  Troezen.  He  was 
brought  up  at  Troezen,  and  when  arrived  at  manhood 
was  to  proceed  to  Athens  and  present  himself  to  his 


THESEUS 


151 


father.  SEgeus  on  parting  from  SEthra,  before  the  birth 
of  his  son,  placed  his  sword  and  shoes  under  a  large 
stone  and  directed  her  to  send  his  son  to  him  when  he 
became  strong  enough  to  roll  away  the  stone  and  take 
them  from  under  it.  When  she  thought  the  time  had 
come,  his  mother  led  Theseus  to  the  stone,  and  he  re¬ 
moved  it  with  ease  and  took  the  sword  and  shoes.  As 
the  roads  were  infested  with  robbers,  his  grandfather 
pressed  him  earnestly  to  take  the  shorter  and  safer  way 
to  his  father’s  country — by  sea;  but  the  youth,  feeling 
in  himself  the  spirit  and  the  soul  of  a  hero,  and  eager 
to  signalize  himself  like  Hercules,  with  whose  fame  all 
Greece  then  rang,  by  destroying  the  evil-doers  and  mon¬ 
sters  that  oppressed  the  country,  determined  on  the 
more  perilous  and  adventurous  journey  by  land. 

His  first  day’s  journey  brought  him  to  Epidaurus, 
where  dwelt  a  man  named  Periphetes,  a  son  of  Vulcan. 
This  ferocious  savage  always  went  armed  with  a  club 
of  iron,  and  all  travellers  stood  in  terror  of  his  violence. 
When  he  saw  Theseus  approach  he  assailed  him,  but 
speedily  fell  beneath  the  blows  of  the  young  hero,  who 
took  possession  of  his  club  and  bore  it  ever  afterwards 
as  a  memorial  of  his  first  victory. 

Several  similar  contests  with  the  petty  tyrants  and 
marauders  of  the  country  followed,  in  all  of  which 
Theseus  was  victorious.  One  of  these  evil-doers  was 
called  Procrustes,  or  the  Stretcher.  He  had  an  iron 
bedstead,  on  which  he  used  to  tie  all  travellers  who 
fell  into  his  hands.  If  they  were  shorter  than  the  bed, 
he  stretched  their  limbs  to  make  them  fit  it;  if  they 
were  longer  than  the  bed,  he  lopped  off  a  portion.  The¬ 
seus  served  him  as  he  had  served  others. 

Having  overcome  all  the  perils  of  the  road,  Theseus 
at  length  reached  Athens,  where  new  dangers  awaited 
him.  Medea,  the  sorceress,  who  had  fled  from  Corinth 
after  her  separation  from  Jason,  had  become  the  wife 
of  Aigeus,  the  father  of  Theseus.  Knowing  by  her  arts 
who  he  was,  and  fearing  the  loss  of  her  influence  with 
her  husband  if  Theseus  should  be  acknowledged  as  his 
son,  she  filled  the  mind  of  iEgeus  with  suspicions  of 
the  young  stranger,  and  induced  him  to  present  him  a 
cup  of  poison ;  but  at  the  moment  when  Theseus  stepped 


152  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


forward  to  take  it,  the  sight  of  the  sword  which  he 
wore  discovered  to  his  father  who  he  was,  and  prevented 
the  fatal  draught.  Medea,  detected  in  her  arts,  fled 
once  more  from  deserved  punishment,  and  arrived  in 
Asia,  where  the  country  afterwards  called  Media  re¬ 
ceived  its  name  from  her.  Theseus  was  acknowledged 
by  his  father,  and  declared  his  successor. 

The  Athenians  were  at  that  time  in  deep  affliction,  on 
account  of  the  tribute  which  they  were  forced  to  pay 
to  Minos,  king  of  Crete.  This  tribute  consisted  of 
seven  youths  and  seven  maidens,  who  were  sent  every 
year  to  be  devoured  by  the  Minotaur,  a  monster  with 
a  bull’s  body  and  a  human  head.  It  was  exceedingly 
strong  and  fierce,  and  was  kept  in  a  labyrinth  constructed 
by  Daedalus,  so  artfully  contrived  that  whoever  was  en¬ 
closed  in  it  could  by  no  means  find  his  way  out  unas¬ 
sisted.  Here  the  Minotaur  roamed,  and  was  fed  with 
human  victims. 

Theseus  resolved  to  deliver  his  countrymen  from 
this  calamity,  or  to  die  in  the  attempt.  Accordingly,  when 
the  time  of  sending  off  the  tribute  came,  and  the  youths 
and  maidens  were,  according  to  custom,  drawn  by  lot  to 
be  sent,  he  offered  himself  as  one  of  the  victims,  in 
spite  of  the  entreaties  of  his  father.  The  ship  departed 
under  black  sails,  as  usual,  which  Theseus  promised  his 
father  to  change  for  white,  in  case  of  his  returning  vic¬ 
torious.  When  they  arrived  in  Crete,  the  youths  and 
maidens  were  exhibited  before  Minos;  and  Ariadne,  the 
daughter  of  the  king,  being  present,  became  deeply  enam¬ 
ored  of  Theseus,  by  whom  her  love  was  readily  returned. 
She  furnished  him  with  a  sword,  with  which  to  encoun¬ 
ter  the  Minotaur,  and  with  a  clew  of  thread  by  which  he 
might  find  his  way  out  of  the  labyrinth.  He  was  suc¬ 
cessful,  slew  the  Minotaur,  escaped  from  the  labyrinth, 
and  taking  Ariadne  as  the  companion  of  his  way,  with  his 
rescued  companions  sailed  for  Athens.  On  their  way 
they  stopped  at  the  island  of  Naxos,  where  Theseus 
abandoned  Ariadne,  leaving  her  asleep.1  His  excuse  for 

1  One  of  the  finest  pieces  of  sculpture  in  Italy,  the  recumbent  Ariadne 
of  the  Vatican,  represents  this  incident.  A  copy  is  owned  by  the 
Athenaeum,  Boston,  and  deposited  in  the  Museum  of  Fine  Arts. 


THESEUS 


153 


this  ungrateful  treatment  of  his  benefactress  was  that 
Minerva  appeared  to  him  in  a  dream  and  commanded  him 
to  do  so. 

On  approaching  the  coast  of  Attica,  Theseus  forgot 
the  signal  appointed  by  his  father,  and  neglected  to  raise 
the  white  sails,  and  the  old  king,  thinking  his  son  had 
perished,  put  an  end  to  his  own  life.  Theseus  thus  became 
king  of  Athens. 

One  of  the  most  celebrated  of  the  adventures  of  The¬ 
seus  is  his  expedition  against  the  Amazons.  He  assailed 
them  before  they  had  recovered  from  the  attack  of 
Hercules,  and  carried  off  their  queen  Antiope.  The 
Amazons  in  their  turn  invaded  the  country  of  Athens  and 
penetrated  into  the  city  itself ;  and  the  final  battle  in 
which  Theseus  overcame  them  was  fought  in  the  very 
midst  of  the  city.  This  battle  was  one  of  the  favorite 
subjects  of  the  ancient  sculptors,  and  is  commemorated 
in  several  works  of  art  that  are  still  extant. 

The  friendship  between  Theseus  and  Pirithous  was 
of  a  most  intimate  nature,  yet  it  originated  in  the  midst 
of  arms.  Pirithous  had  made  an  irruption  into  the  plain 
of  Marathon,  and  carried  off  the  herds  of  the  king  of 
Athens.  Theseus  went  to  repel  the  plunderers.  The 
moment  Pirithous  beheld  him,  he  was  seized  with  admi¬ 
ration  ;  he  stretched  out  his  hand  as  a  token  of  peace, 
and  cried,  “Be  judge  thyself — what  satisfaction  dost  thou 
require?”  “Thy  friendship,”  replied  the  Athenian,  and 
they  swore  inviolable  fidelity.  Their  deeds  corresponded 
to  their  professions,  and  they  ever  continued  true  brothers 
in  arms.  Each  of  them  aspired  to  espouse  a  daughter 
of  Jupiter.  Theseus  fixed  his  choice  on  Helen,  then  but 
a  child,  afterwards  so  celebrated  as  the  cause  of  the 
Trojan  war,  and  with  the  aid  of  his  friend  he  carried 
her  off.  Pirithous  aspired  to  the  wife  of  the  monarch 
of  Erebus;  and  Theseus,  though  aware  of  the  danger, 
accompanied  the  ambitious  lover  in  his  descent  to  the 
under-wbrld.  But  Pluto  seized  and  set  them  on  an  en¬ 
chanted  rock  at  his  palace  gate,  where  they  remained 
till  Hercules  arrived  and  liberated  Theseus,  leaving  Pi¬ 
rithous  to  his  fate. 

After  the  death  of  Antiope,  Theseus  married  Phae- 


154  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


dra,  daughter  of  Minos,  king  of  Crete.  Phaedra  saw  in 
Hippolytus,  the  son  of  Theseus,  a  youth  endowed  with 
all  the  graces  and  virtues  of  his  father,  and  of  an  age 
corresponding  to  her  own.  She  loved  him,  but  he  re¬ 
pulsed  her  advances,  and  her  love  was  changed  to  hate. 
She  used  her  influence  over  her  infatuated  husband  to 
cause  him  to  be  jealous  of  his  son,  and  he  imprecated  the 
vengeance  of  Neptune  upon  him.  As  Hippolytus  was  one 
day  driving  his  chariot  along  the  shore,  a  sea-monster 
raised  himself  above  the  waters,  and  frightened  the 
horses  so  that  they  ran  away  and  dashed  the  chariot  to 
pieces.  Hippolytus  was  killed,  but  by  Diana’s  assistance 
^Esculapius  restored  him  to  life.  Diana  removed  Hip¬ 
polytus  from  the  power  of  his  deluded  father  and  false 
stepmother,  and  placed  him  in  Italy  under  the  protection 
of  the  nymph  Egeria. 

Theseus  at  length  lost  the  favor  of  his  people,  and 
retired  to  the  court  of  Lycomedes,  king  of  Scyros,  who 
at  first  received  him  kindly,  but  afterwards  treacherously 
slew  him.  In  a  later  age  the  Athenian  general  Cimon 
discovered  the  place  where  his  remains  were  laid,  and 
caused  them  to  be  removed  to  Athens,  where  they  were 
deposited  in  a  temple  called  the  Theseum,  erected  in 
honor  of  the  hero. 

The  queen  of  the  Amazons  whom  Theseus  espoused 
is  by  some  called  Hippolyta.  That  is  the  name  she  bears 
in  Shakspeare’s  “Midsummer  Night’s  Dream,” — the 
subject  of  which  is  the  festivities  attending  the  nup¬ 
tials  of  Theseus  and  Hippolyta. 

Mrs.  Hemans  has  a  poem  on  the  ancient  Greek  tra¬ 
dition  that  the  “Shade  of  Theseus”  appeared  strength¬ 
ening  his  countrymen  at  the  battle  of  Marathon. 

Theseus  is  a  semi-historical  personage.  It  is  record¬ 
ed  of  him  that  he  united  the  several  tribes  by  whom 
the  territory  of  Attica  was  then  possessed  into  one 
state,  of  which  Athens  was  the  capital.  In  commemora¬ 
tion  of  this  important  event,  he  instituted  the  festival 
of  Panathensea,  in  honor  of  Minerva,  the  patron  deity 
of  Athens.  This  festival  differed  from  the  other  Gre¬ 
cian  games  chiefly  in  two  particulars.  It  was  peculiar 


OLYMPIC  AND  OTHER  GAMES 


155 


to  the  Athenians,  and  its  chief  feature  was  a  solemn 
procession  in  which  the  Peplus,  or  sacred  robe  of 
Minerva,  was  carried  to  the  Parthenon,  and  suspended 
before  the  statue  of  the  goddess.  The  Peplus  was  cov¬ 
ered  with  embroidery,  worked  by  select  virgins  of  the 
noblest  families  in  Athens.  The  procession  consisted  of 
persons  of  all  ages  and  both  sexes.  The  old  men  car¬ 
ried  olive  branches  in  their  hands,  and  the  young  men 
bore  arms.  The  young  women  carried  baskets  on  their 
heads,  containing  the  sacred  utensils,  cakes,  and  all 
things  necessary  for  the  sacrifices.  The  procession 
formed  the  subject  of  the  bas-reliefs  which  embellished 
the  outside  of  the  temple  of  the  Parthenon.  A  con¬ 
siderable  portion  of  these  sculptures  is  now  in  the  Brit¬ 
ish  Museum  among  those  known  as  the  “Elgin  marbles.’* 

OLYMPIC  AND  OTHER  GAMES 

It  seems  not  inappropriate  to  mention  here  the  other 
celebrated  national  games  of  the  Greeks.  The  first  and 
most  distinguished  were  the  Olympic,  founded,  it  was 
said,  by  Jupiter  himself.  They  were  celebrated  at  Olym¬ 
pia  in  Elis.  Vast  numbers  of  spectators  flocked  to  them 
from  every  part  of  Greece,  and  from  Asia,  Africa,  and 
Sicily.  They  were  repeated  every  fifth  year  in  mid¬ 
summer,  and  continued  five  days.  They  gave  rise  to 
the  custom  of  reckoning  time  and  dating  events  by 
Olympiads.  The  first  Olympiad  is  generally  consid¬ 
ered  as  corresponding  with  the  year  776  B.C.  The 
Pythian  games  were  celebrated  in  the  vicinity  of  Delphi, 
the  Isthmian  on  the  Corinthian  isthmus,  the  Nemean  at 
Nemea,  a  city  of  Argolis. 

The  exercises  in  these  games  were  of  five  sorts :  run¬ 
ning,  leaping,  wrestling,  throwing  the  quoit,  and  hurl¬ 
ing  the  javelin,  or  boxing.  Besides  these  exercises  of 
bodily  strength  and  agility,  there  were  contests  in  music, 
poetry,  and  eloquence.  Thus  these  games  furnished 
poets,  musicians,  and  authors  the  best  opportunities  to 
present  their  productions  to  the  public,  and  the  fame  of 
the  victors  was  diffused  far  and  wide. 


156  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


DAEDALUS 

The  labyrinth  from  which  Theseus  escaped  by  means 
of  the  clew  of  Ariadne  was  built  by  Daedalus,  a  most 
skilful  artificer.  It  was  an  edifice  with  numberless  wind¬ 
ing  passages  and  turnings  opening  into  one  another,  and 
seeming  to  have  neither  beginning  nor  end,  like  the  river 
Maeander,  which  returns  on  itself,  and  flows  now  on¬ 
ward,  now  backward,  in  its  course  to  the  sea.  Daedalus 
built  the  labyrinth  for  King  Minos,  but  afterwards  lost 
the  favor  of  the  king,  and  was  shut  up  in  a  tower.  He 
contrived  to  make  his  escape  from  his  prison,  but  could 
not  leave  the  island  by  sea,  as  the  king  kept  strict  watch 
on  all  the  vessels,  and  permitted  none  to  sail  without 
being  carefully  searched.  “Minos  may  control  the  land 
and  sea,”  said  Daedalus,  “but  not  the  regions  of  the  air. 
I  will  try  that  way.”  So  he  set  to  work  to  fabricate 
wings  for  himself  and  his  young  son  Icarus.  He 
wrought  feathers  together,  beginning  with  the  smallest 
and  adding  larger,  so  as  to  form  an  increasing  surface. 
The  larger  ones  he  secured  with  thread  and  the  smaller 
with  wax,  and  gave  the  whole  a  gentle  curvature  like 
the  wings  of  a  bird.  Icarus,  the  boy,  stood  and  looked 
on,  sometimes  running  to  gather  up  the  feathers  which 
the  wind  had  blown  away,  and  then  handling  the  wax 
and  working  it  over  with  his  fingers,  by  his  play  im¬ 
peding  his  father  in  his  labors.  When  at  last  the  work 
was  done,  the  artist,  waving  his  wings,  found  himself 
buoyed  upward,  and  hung  suspended,  poising  himself  on 
the  beaten  air.  He  next  equipped  his  son  in  the  same 
manner,  and  taught  him  how  to  fly,  as  a  bird  tempts  her 
young  ones  from  the  lofty  nest  into  the  air.  When  all 
was  prepared  for  flight  he  said,  “Icarus,  my  son,  I 
charge  you  to  keep  at  a  moderate  height,  for  if  you 
fly  too  low  the  damp  will  clog  your  wings,  and  if  too 
high  the  heat  will  melt  them.  Keep  near  me  and  you 
will  be  safe.”  While  he  gave  him  these  instructions  and 
fitted  the  wings  to  his  shoulders,  the  face  of  the  father 
was  wet  with  tears,  and  his  hands  trembled.  He  kissed 
the  boy,  not  knowing  that  it  was  for  the  last  time.  Then 
rising  on  his  wings,  he  flew  off,  encouraging  him  to  fol- 


DAEDALUS 


157 


low,  and  looked  back  from  his  own  flight  to  see  how 
his  son  managed  his  wings.  As  they  flew  the  plough¬ 
man  stopped  his  work  to  gaze,  and  the  shepherd  leaned 
on  his  staff  and  watched  them,  astonished  at  the  sight, 
and  thinking  they  were  gods  who  could  thus  cleave 
the  air. 

They  passed  Samos  and  Delos  on  the  left  and  Leb- 
ynthos  on  the  right,  when  the  boy,  exulting  in  his  ca¬ 
reer,  began  to  leave  the  guidance  of  his  companion  and 
soar  upward  as  if  to  reach  heaven.  The  nearness  of 
the  blazing  sun  softened  the  wax  which  held  the  feathers 
together,  and  they  came  off.  He  fluttered  with  his  arms, 
but  no  feathers  remained  to  hold  the  air.  While  his 
mouth  uttered  cries  to  his  father  it  was  submerged  in 
the  blue  waters  of  the  sea,  which  thenceforth  was  called 
by  his  name.  His  father  cried,  “Icarus,  Icarus,  where 
are  you?”  At  last  he  saw  the  feathers  floating  on  the 
water,  and  bitterly  lamenting  his  own  arts,  he  buried 
the  body  and  called  the  land  Icaria  in  memory  of  his 
child.  Daedalus  arrived  safe  in  Sicily,  where  he  built 
a  temple  to  Apollo,  and  hung  up  his  wings,  an  offering 
to  the  god. 

Daedalus  was  so  proud  of  his  achievements  that  he 
could  not  bear  the  idea  of  a  rival.  His  sister  had  placed 
her  son  Perdix  under  his  charge  to  be  taught  the  me¬ 
chanical  arts.  He  was  an  apt  scholar  and  gave  strik¬ 
ing  evidences  of  ingenuity.  Walking  on  the  seashore 
he  picked  up  the  spine  of  a  fish.  Imitating  it,  he  took 
a  piece  of  iron  and  notched  it  on  the  edge,  and  thus 
invented  the  saw.  He  put  two  pieces  of  iron  together, 
connecting  them  at  one  end  with  a  rivet,  and  sharpen¬ 
ing  the  other  ends,  and  made  a  pair  of  compasses. 
Daedalus  was  so  envious  of  his  nephew’s  performances 
that  he  took  an  opportunity,  when  they  were  together 
one  day  on  the  top  of  a  high  tower,  to  push  him  off. 
But  Minerva,  who  favors  ingenuity,  saw  him  falling, 
and  arrested  his  fate  by  changing  him  into  a  bird  called 
after  his  name,  the  Partridge.  This  bird  does  not  build 
his  nest  in  the  trees,  nor  take  lofty  flights,  but  nestles 
in  the  hedges,  and  mindful  of  his  fall,  avoids  high 
places. 


158  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


The  death  of  Icarus  is  told  in  the  following  lines  by 
Darwin : 

“  .  .  with  melting  wax  and  loosened  strings 

Sunk  hapless  Icarus  on  unfaithful  wings; 

Headlong  he  rushed  through  the  affrighted  air, 

With  limbs  distorted  and  dishevelled  hair; 

His  scattered  plumage  danced  upon  the  wave, 

And  sorrowing  Nereids  decked  his  watery  grave; 

O’er  his  pale  corse  their  pearly  sea-flowers  shed, 

And  strewed  with  crimson  moss  his  marble  bed; 

Struck  in  their  coral  towers  the  passing  bell, 

And  wide  in  ocean  tolled  his  echoing  knell.” 

CASTOR  AND  POLLUX 

Castor  and  Pollux  were  the  offspring  of  Leda  and 
the  Swan,  under  which  disguise  Jupiter  had  concealed 
himself.  Leda  gave  birth  to  an  egg  from  which  sprang 
the  twins.  Helen,  so  famous  afterwards  as  the  cause 
of  the  Trojan  war,  was  their  sister. 

When  Theseus  and  his  friend  Pirithous  had  carried 
off  Helen  from  Sparta,  the  youthful  heroes  Castor  and 
Pollux,  with  their  followers,  hastened  to  her  rescue. 
Theseus  was  absent  from  Attica  and  the  brothers  were 
successful  in  recovering  their  sister. 

Castor  was  famous  for  taming  and  managing  horses, 
and  Pollux  for  skill  in  boxing.  They  were  united  by 
the  warmest  affection  and  inseparable  in  all  their  en¬ 
terprises.  They  accompanied  the  Argonautic  expedition. 
During  the  voyage  a  storm  arose,  and  Orpheus  prayed 
to  the  Samothracian  gods,  and  played  on  his  harp, 
whereupon  the  storm  ceased  and  stars  appeared  on  the 
heads  of  the  brothers.  From  this  incident,  Castor  and 
Pollux  came  afterwards  to  be  considered  the  patron 
deities  of  seamen  and  voyagers,  and  the  lambent  flames, 
which  in  certain  states  of  the  atmosphere  play  round  the 
sails  and  masts  of  vessels,  were  called  by  their  names. 

After  the  Argonautic  expedition,  we  find  Castor  and 
Pollux  engaged  in  a  war  with  Idas  and  Lynceus.  Cas¬ 
tor  was  slain,  and  Pollux,  inconsolable  for  the  loss  of 
his  brother,  besought  Jupiter  to  be  permitted  to  give 
his  own  life  as  a  ransom  for  him.  Jupiter  so  far  con- 


CASTOR  AND  POLLUX 


159 


sented  as  to  allow  the  two  brothers  to  enjoy  the  boon 
of  life  alternately,  passing  one  day  under  the  earth  and 
the  next  in  the  heavenly  abodes.  According  to  another 
form  of  the  story,  Jupiter  rewarded  the  attachment  of 
the  brothers  by  placing  them  among  the  stars  as  Gemini 
the  Twins. 

They  received  divine  honors  under  the  name  of 
Dioscuri  (sons  of  Jove).  They  were  believed  to  have 
appeared  occasionally  in  later  times,  taking  part  with 
one  side  or  the  other,  in  hard-fought  fields,  and  were 
said  on  such  occasions  to  be  mounted  on  magnificent 
white  steeds.  Thus  in  the  early  history  of  Rome  they 
are  said  to  have  assisted  the  Romans  at  the  battle  of 
Lake  Regillus,  and  after  the  victory  a  temple  was  erected 
in  their  honor  on  the  spot  where  they  appeared. 

Macaulay,  in  his  “Lays  of  Ancient  Rome,”  thus  al- 
ludes  to  the  legend : 

‘‘So  like  they  were,  no  mortal 
Might  one  from  other  know; 

White  as  snow  their  armor  was, 

Their  steeds  were  white  as  snow. 

Never  on  earthly  anvil 

Did  such  rare  armor  gleam, 

And  never  did  such  gallant  steeds 
Drink  of  an  earthly  stream. 


“Back  comes  the  chief  in  triumph 
Who  in  the  hour  of  fight 
Hath  seen  the  great  Twin  Brethren 
In  harness  on  his  right. 

Safe  comes  the  ship  to  haven, 
Through  billows  and  through  gales, 
If  once  the  great  Twin  Brethren 
Sit  shining  on  the  sails.” 


160  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


CHAPTER  XXI 

BACCHUS — ARIADNE 
BACCHUS 

Bacchus  was  the  son  of  Jupiter  and  Semele.  Juno, 
to  gratify  her  resentment  against  Semele,  contrived  a 
plan  for  her  destruction.  Assuming  the  form  of  Beroe, 
her  aged  nurse,  she  insinuated  doubts  whether  it  was 
indeed  Jove  himself  who  came  as  a  lover.  Heaving  a 
sigh,  she  said,  “I  hope  it  will  turn  out  so,  but  I  can’t 
help  being  afraid.  People  are  not  always  what  they 
pretend  to  be.  If  he  is  indeed  Jove,  make  him  give 
some  proof  of  it.  Ask  him  to  come  arrayed  in  all  his 
splendors,  such  as  he  wears  in  heaven.  That  will  put 
the  matter  beyond  a  doubt.”  Semele  was  persuaded  to 
try  the  experiment.  She  asks  a  favor,  without  nam¬ 
ing  what  it  is.  Jove  gives  his  promise,  and  confirms  it 
with  the  irrevocable  oath,  attesting  the  river  Styx,  ter¬ 
rible  to  the  gods  themselves.  Then  she  made  known  her 
request.  The  god  would  have  stopped  her  as  she  spake, 
but  she  was  too  quick  for  him.  The  words  escaped, 
and  he  could  neither  unsay  his  promise  nor  her  request. 
In  deep  distress  he  left  her  and  returned  to  the  upper 
regions.  There  he  clothed  himself  in  his  splendors,  not 
putting  on  all  his  terrors,  as  when  he  overthrew  the 
giants,  but  what  is  known  among  the  gods  as  his  lesser 
panoply.  Arrayed  in  this,  he  entered  the  chamber  of 
Semele.  Her  mortal  frame  could  not  endure  the  splen¬ 
dors  of  the  immortal  radiance.  She  was  consumed  to 
ashes. 

Jove  took  the  infant  Bacchus  and  gave  him  in  charge 
to  the  Nysaean  nymphs,  who  nourished  his  infancy  and 
childhood,  and  for  their  care  were  rewarded  by  Jupiter 
by  being  placed,  as  the  Hyades,  among  the  stars.  When 
Bacchus  grew  up  he  discovered  the  culture  of  the  vine 
and  the  mode  of  extracting  its  precious  juice;  but  Juno 
struck  him  with  madness,  and  drove  him  forth  a  wan¬ 
derer  through  various  parts  of  the  earth.  In  Phrygia 


BACCHUS 


161 


the  godaess  Rhea  cured  him  and  taught  him  her  re¬ 
ligious  rites,  and  he  set  out  on  a  progress  through  Asia, 
teaching  the  people  the  cultivation  of  the  vine.  The 
most  famous  part  of  his  wanderings  is  his  expedition  to 
India,  which  is  said  to  have  lasted  several  years.  Re¬ 
turning  in  triumph,  he  undertook  to  introduce  his  wor¬ 
ship  into  Greece,  but  was  opposed  by  some  princes,  who 
dreaded  its  introduction  on  account  of  the  disorders  and 
madness  it  brought  with  it. 

As  he  approached  his  native  city  Thebes,  Pentheus 
the  king,  who  had  no  respect  for  the  new  worship,  for¬ 
bade  its  rites  to  be  performed.  But  when  it  was  known 
that  Bacchus  was  advancing,  men  and  women,  but 
chiefly  the  latter,  young  and  old,  poured  forth  to  meet 
him  and  to  join  his  triumphal  march. 

Mr.  Longfellow  in  his  “Drinking  Song”  thus  describes 
the  march  of  Bacchus : 

‘‘Fauns  with  youthful  Bacchus  follow; 

Ivy  crowns  that  brow,  supernal 
As  the  forehead  of  Apollo, 

And  possessing  youth  eternal. 

“Round  about  him  fair  Bacchantes, 

Bearing  cymbals,  flutes  and  thyrses, 

Wild  from  Naxian  groves  of  Zante’s 
Vineyards,  sing  delirious  verses.” 

It  was  in  vain  Pentheus  remonstrated,  commanded, 
and  threatened.  “Go,”  said  he  to  his  attendants,  “seize 
this  vagabond  leader  of  the  rout  and  bring  him  to  me. 
I  will  soon  make  him  confess  his  false  claim  of  heavenly 
parentage  and  renounce  his  counterfeit  worship.”  It  was 
in  vain  his  nearest  friends  and  wisest  counsellors  remon¬ 
strated  and  begged  him  not  to  oppose  the  god.  Their 
remonstrances  only  made  him  more  violent. 

But  now  the  attendants  returned  whom  he  had  de¬ 
spatched  to  seize  Bacchus.  They  had  been  driven  away 
by  the  Bacchanals,  but  had  succeeded  in  taking  one  of 
them  prisoner,  whom,  with  his  hands  tied  behind  him, 
they  brought  before  the  king.  Pentheus,  beholding  him 
with  wrathful  countenance,  said,  “Fellow!  you  shall 


162  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


speedily  be  put  to  death,  that  your  fate  may  be  a  warn¬ 
ing  to  others;  but  though  I  grudge  the  delay  of  your 
punishment,  speak,  tell  us  who  you  are,  and  what  are 
these  new  rites  you  presume  to  celebrate.” 

The  prisoner,  unterrified,  responded,  “My  name  is 
Acetes;  my  country  is  Mseonia;  my  parents  were  poor 
people,  who  had  no  fields  or  flocks  to  leave  me,  but 
they  left  me  their  fishing  rods  and  nets  and  their  fisher¬ 
man’s  trade.  This  I  followed  for  some  time,  till  grow¬ 
ing  weary  of  remaining  in  one  place,  I  learned  the  pilot’s 
art  and  how  to  guide  my  course  by  the  stars.  It  hap¬ 
pened  as  I  was  sailing  for  Delos  we  touched  at  the 
island  of  Dia  and  went  ashore.  Next  morning  I  sent 
the  men  for  fresh  water,  and  myself  mounted  the  hill 
to  observe  the  wind;  when  my  men  returned  bringing 
with  them  a  prize,  as  they  thought,  a  boy  of  delicate 
appearance,  whom  they  had  found  asleep.  They  judged 
he  was  a  noble  youth,  perhaps  a  king’s  son,  and  they 
might  get  a  liberal  ransom  for  him.  I  observed  his 
dress,  his  walk,  his  face.  There  was  something  in  them 
which  I  felt  sure  was  more  than  mortal.  I  said  to  my 
men,  ‘What  god  there  is  concealed  in  that  form  I  know 
not,  but  some  one  there  certainly  is.  Pardon  us,  gentle 
deity,  for  the  violence  we  have  done  you,  and  give  suc¬ 
cess  to  our  undertakings.’  Dictys,  one  of  my  best  hands 
for  climbing  the  mast  and  coming  down  by  the  ropes, 
and  Melanthus,  my  steersman,  and  Epopeus,  the  leader 
of  the  sailor’s  cry,  one  and  all  exclaimed,  ‘Spare  your 
prayers  for  us.’  So  blind  is  the  lust  of  gain !  When 
they  proceeded  to  put  him  on  board  I  resisted  them. 
‘This  ship  shall  not  be  profaned  by  such  impiety,’  said 
I.  ‘I  have  a  greater  share  in  her  than  any  of  you.’  But 
Lycabas,  a  turbulent  fellow,  seized  me  by  the  throat 
and  attempted  to  throw  me  overboard,  and  I  scarcely 
saved  myself  by  clinging  to  the  ropes.  The  rest  ap¬ 
proved  the  deed. 

“Then  Bacchus  (for  it  was  indeed  he),  as  if  shaking 
off  his  drowsiness,  exclaimed,  ‘What  are  you  doing  with 
me?  What  is  this  fighting  about?  Who  brought  me 
here?  Where  are  you  going  to  carry  me?’  One  of 
them  replied,  ‘Fear  nothing;  tell  us  where  you  wish 


BACCHUS 


163 


to  go  and  we  will  take  you  there.’  ‘Naxos  is  my  home/ 
said  Bacchus;  ‘take  me  there  and  you  shall  be  well  re- 
warded.’  They  promised  so  to  do,  and  told  me  to  pilot 
the  ship  to  Naxos.  Naxos  lay  to  the  right,  and  I  was 
trimming  the  sails  to  carry  us  there,  when  some  by  signs 
and  others  by  whispers  signified  to  me  their  will  that  I 
should  sail  in  the  opposite  direction,  and  take  the  boy 
to  Egypt  to  sell  him  for  a  slave.  I  was  confounded  and 
said,  ‘Let  some  one  else  pilot  the  ship  /  withdrawing  my¬ 
self  from  any  further  agency  in  their  wickedness.  They 
cursed  me,  and  one  of  them,  exclaiming,  ‘Don’t  flatter 
yourself  that  we  depend  on  you  for  our  safety,’  took 
my  place  as  pilot,  and  bore  away  from  Naxos. 

“Then  the  god,  pretending  that  he  had  just  become 
aware  of  their  treachery,  looked  out  over  the  sea  and 
said  in  a  voice  of  weeping,  ‘Sailors,  these  are  not  the 
shores  you  promised  to  take  me  to;  yonder  island  is 
not  my  home.  What  have  I  done  that  you  should  treat 
me  so?  It  is  small  glory  you  will  gain  by  cheating  a 
poor  boy.’  I  wept  to  hear  him,  but  the  crew  laughed 
at  both  of  us,  and  sped  the  vessel  fast  over  the  sea.  All 
at  once — strange  as  it  may  seem,  it  is  true, — the  vessel 
stopped,  in  the  mid  sea,  as  fast  as  if  it  was  fixed  on 
the  ground.  The  men,  astonished,  pulled  at  their  oars, 
and  spread  more  sail,  trying  to  make  progress  by  the 
aid  of  both,  but  all  in  vain.  Ivy  twined  round  the  oars 
and  hindered  their  motion,  and  clung  to  the  sails,  with 
heavy  clusters  of  berries.  A  vine,  laden  with  grapes, 
ran  up  the  mast,  and  along  the  sides  of  the  vessel.  The( 
sound  of  flutes  was  heard  and  the  odor  of  fragrant  wine/ 
spread  all  around.  The  god  himself  had  a  chaplet  of 
vine  leaves,  and  bore  in  his  hand  a  spear  wreathed  with 
ivy.  Tigers  crouched  at  his  feet,  and  forms  of  lynxes 
and  spotted  panthers  played  around  him.  The  men  were 
seized  with  terror  or  madness;  some  leaped  overboard; 
others  preparing  to  do  the  same  beheld  their  compan¬ 
ions  in  the  water  undergoing  a  change,  their  bodies 
becoming  flattened  and  ending  in  a  crooked  tail.  One 
exclaimed,  ‘What  miracle  is  this !’  and  as  he  spoke  his 
mouth  widened,  his  nostrils  expanded,  and  scales  cov¬ 
ered  all  his  body.  Another,  endeavoring  to  pull  the  oar. 


164  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


felt  his  hands  shrink  up  and  presently  to  be  no  longer 
hands  but  fins;  another,  trying  to  raise  his  arms  to  a 
rope,  found  he  had  no  arms,  and  curving  his  mutilated 
body,  jumped  into  the  sea.  What  had  been  his  legs 
became  the  two  ends  of  a  crescent-shaped  tail.  The 
whole  crew  became  dolphins  and  swam  about  the  ship, 
now  upon  the  surface,  now  under  it,  scattering  the 
spray,  and  spouting  the  water  from  their  broad  nostrils. 
Of  twenty  men  I  alone  was  left.  Trembling  with  fear, 
the  god  cheered  me.  ‘Fear  not/  said  he ;  ‘steer  towards 
Naxos.’  I  obeyed,  and  when  we  arrived  there,  I  kindled 
the  altars  and  celebrated  the  sacred  rites  of  Bacchus.” 

Pentheus  here  exclaimed,  “We  have  wasted  time 
enough  on  this  silly  story.  Take  him  away  and  have 
him  executed  without  delay.”  Acetes  was  led  away  by 
the  attendants  and  shut  up  fast  in  prison;  but  while 
they  were  getting  ready  the  instruments  of  execution 
the  prison  doors  came  open  of  their  own  accord  and  the 
chains  fell  from  his  limbs,  and  when  they  looked  for 
him  he  was  nowhere  to  be  found. 

Pentheus  would  take  no  warning,  but  instead  of  send¬ 
ing  others,  determined  to  go  himself  to  the  scene  of 
the  solemnities.  The  mountain  Citheron  was  all  alive 
with  worshippers,  and  the  cries  of  the  Bacchanals  re¬ 
sounded  on  every  side.  The  noise  roused  the  anger  of 
Pentheus  as  the  sound  of  a  trumpet  does  the  fire  of 
a  war-horse.  He  penetrated  through  the  wood  and 
reached  an  open  space  where  the  chief  scene  of  the 
orgies  met  his  eyes.  At  the  same  moment  the  women 
saw  him;  and  first  among  them  his  own  mother,  Agave, 
blinded  by  the  god,  cried  out,  “See  there  the  wild  boar, 
the  hugest  monster  that  prowls  in  these  woods!  Come 
on,  sisters !  I  will  be  the  first  to  strike  the  wild  boar.” 
The  whole  band  rushed  upon  him,  and  while  he  now 
talks  less  arrogantly,  now  excuses  himself,  and  now  con¬ 
fesses  his  crime  and  implores  pardon,  they  press  upon 
him  and  wound  him.  In  vain  he  cries  to  his  aunts  to 
protect  him  from  his  mother.  Autonoe  seized  one  arm, 
Ino  the  other,  and  between  them  he  was  torn  to  pieces, 
while  his  mother  shouted,  “Victory!  Victory!  we  have 
done  it;  the  glory  is  ours!” 


ARIADNE 


165 


So  the  worship  of  Bacchus  was  established  in  Greece. 

There  is  an  allusion  to  the  story  of  Bacchus  and  the 
mariners  in  Milton’s  “Comus,”  at  line  46.  The  story 
of  Circe  will  be  found  in  Chapter  XXIX. 

“Bacchus  that  first  from  out  the  purple  grapes 
Crushed  the  sweet  poison  of  misused  wine, 

After  the  Tuscan  mariners  transformed, 

Coasting  the  Tyrrhene  shore  as  the  winds  listed 
On  Circe’s  island  fell  (who  knows  not  Circe, 

The  daughter  of  the  Sun?  whose  charmed  cup 
Whoever  tasted  lost  his  upright  shape, 

And  downward  fell  into  a  grovelling  swine).” 

ARIADNE 

We  have  seen  in  the  story  of  Theseus  how  Ariadne, 
the  daughter  of  King  Minos,  after  helping  Theseus  to 
escape  from  the  labyrinth,  was  carried  by  him  to  the 
island  of  Naxos  and  was  left  there  asleep,  while  the  un¬ 
grateful  Theseus  pursued  his  way  home  without  her. 
Ariadne,  on  waking  and  finding  herself  deserted,  aban¬ 
doned  herself  to  grief.  But  Venus  took  pity  on  her,  and 
consoled  her  with  the  promise  that  she  should  have  an 
immortal  lover,  instead  of  the  mortal  one  she  had  lost. 

The  island  where  Ariadne  was  left  was  the  favorite 
island  of  Bacchus,  the  same  that  he  wished  the  Tyrrhe¬ 
nian  mariners  to  carry  him  to,  when  they  so  treacher¬ 
ously  attempted  to  make  prize  of  him.  As  Ariadne  sat 
lamenting  her  fate,  Bacchus  found  her,  consoled  her, 
and  made  her  his  wife.  As  a  marriage  present  he  gave 
her  a  golden  crown,  enriched  with  gems,  and  when  she 
died,  he  took  her  crown  and  threw  it  up  into  the  sky. 
As  it  mounted  the  gems  grew  brighter  and  were  turned 
into  stars,  and  preserving  its  form  Ariadne’s  crown  re¬ 
mains  fixed  in  the  heavens  as  a  constellation,  between 
the  kneeling  Hercules  and  the  man  who  holds  the  ser¬ 
pent. 

Spenser  alludes  to  Ariadne’s  crown,  though  he  has 
made  some  mistakes  in  his  mythology.  It  was  at  the 


166  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


wedding  of  Pirithous,  and  not  Theseus,  that  the  Cen¬ 
taurs  and  Lapithse  quarrelled. 

“Look  how  the  crown  which  Ariadne  wore 
Upon  her  ivory  forehead  that  same  day 
That  Theseus  her  unto  his  bridal  bore, 

Then  the  bold  Centaurs  made  that  bloody  fray 
With  the  fierce  Lapiths  which  did  them  dismay; 

Being  now  placed  in  the  firmament, 

Through  the  bright  heaven  doth  her  beams  display, 

And  is  unto  the  stars  an  ornament, 

Which  round  about  her  move  in  order  excellent.” 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  RURAL  DEITIES — ERISICHTHON — RHCECUS — THE 
WATER  DEITIES - CAMENA2 - WINDS 

THE  RURAL  DEITIES 

Pan,  the  god  of  woods  and  fields,  of  flocks  and  shep¬ 
herds,  dwelt  in  grottos,  wandered  on  the  mountains  and 
in  valleys,  and  amused  himself  with  the  chase  or  in 
leading  the  dances  of  the  nymphs.  He  was  fond  of 
music,  and  as  we  have  seen,  the  inventor  of  the  syrinx, 
or  shepherd’s  pipe,  which  he  himself  played  in  a  mas¬ 
terly  manner.  Pan,  like  other  gods  who  dwelt  in  for¬ 
ests,  was  dreaded  by  those  whose  occupations  caused 
them  to  pass  through  the  woods  by  night,  for  the  gloom 
,and  loneliness  of  such  scenes  dispose  the  mind  to  su¬ 
perstitious  fears.  Hence  sudden  fright  without  any 
visible  cause  was  ascribed  to  Pan,  and  called  a  Panic 
terror. 

As  the  name  of  the  god  signifies  all ,  Pan  came  to  be 
considered  a  symbol  of  the  universe  and  personification 
of  Nature;  and  later  still  to  be  regarded  as  a  represen¬ 
tative  of  all  the  gods  and  of  heathenism  itself. 

Sylvanus  and  Faunus  were  Latin  divinities,  whose 
characteristics  are  so  nearly  the  same  as  those  of  Pan 
that  we  may  safely  consider  them  as  the  same  person¬ 
age  under  different  names. 


THE  RURAL  DEITIES 


167 


The  wood-nymphs,  Pan’s  partners  in  the  dance,  were 
but  one  class  of  nymphs.  There  were  beside  them  the 
Naiads,  who  presided  over  brooks  and  fountains,  the 
Oreads,  nymphs  of  mountains  and  grottos,  and  the  Ne¬ 
reids,  sea-nymphs.  The  three  last  named  were  immor¬ 
tal,  but  the  wood-nymphs,  called  Dryads  or  Hamadryads, 
were  believed  to  perish  with  the  trees  which  had  been 
their  abode  and  with  which  they  had  come  into  exist¬ 
ence.  It  was  therefore  an  impious  act  wantonly  to  de¬ 
stroy  a  tree,  and  in  some  aggravated  cases  were  severely 
punished,  as  in  the  instance  of  Erisichthon,  which  we 
are  about  to  record. 

Milton  in  his  glowing  description  of  the  early  cre¬ 
ation,  thus  alludes  to  Pan  as  the  personification  of 
Nature : 


“.  .  .  Universal  Pan, 

Knit  with  the  Graces  and  the  Hours  in  dance, 
Led  on  the  eternal  spring.” 


And  describing  Eve’s  abode : 

“.  .  .  In  shadier  bower, 

More  sacred  or  sequestered,  though  but  feigned, 

Pan  or  Sylvanus  never  slept,  nor  nymph 
Nor  Faunus  haunted.” 

— Paradise  Lost ,  B.  IV. 

It  was  a  pleasing  trait  in  the  old  Paganism  that  it 
loved  to  trace  in  every  operation  of  nature  the  agency 
of  deity.  The  imagination  of  the  Greeks  peopled  all 
the  regions  of  earth  and  sea  with  divinities,  to  whose 
agency  it  attributed  those  phenomena  which  our  phi¬ 
losophy  ascribes  to  the  operation  of  the  laws  of  nature. 
Sometimes  in  our  poetical  moods  we  feel  disposed  to 
regret  the  change,  and  to  think  that  the  heart  has  lost 
as  much  as  the  head  has  gained  by  the  substitution.  The 
poet  Wordsworth  thus  strongly  expresses  this  senti¬ 
ment  : 

“.  .  .  Great  God,  I’d  rather  be 
A  Pagan,  suckled  in  a  creed  outworn, 

So  might  I,  standing  on  this  pleasant  lea, 


168  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


Have  glimpses  that  would  make  me  less  forlorn; 
Have  sight  of  Proteus  rising  from  the  sea, 

And  hear  old  Triton  blow  his  wreathed  horn.” 


Schiller,  in  his  poem  “Die  Gotter  Griechenlands,,,  ex¬ 
presses  his  regret  for  the  overthrow  of  the  beautiful 
mythology  of  ancient  times  in  a  way  which  has  called 
forth  an  answer  from  a  Christian  poet,  Mrs.  E.  Bar¬ 
rett  Browning,  in  her  poem  called  “The  Dead  Pan.” 
The  two  following  verses  are  a  specimen: 

“By  your  beauty  which  confesses 
Some  chief  Beauty  conquering  you, 

By  our  grand  heroic  guesses 
Through  your  falsehood  at  the  True, 

We  will  weep  not!  earth  shall  roll 
Heir  to  each  god’s  aureole, . 

And  Pan  is  dead. 

“Earth  outgrows  the  mythic  fancies 
Sung  beside  her  in  her  youth ; 

And  those  debonaire  romances 
Sound  but  dull  beside  the  truth. 

Phoebus’  chariot  course  is  run! 

Look  up,  poets,  to  the  sun! 

Pan,  Pan  is  dead.” 

These  lines  are  founded  on  an  early  Christian  tra¬ 
dition  that  when  the  heavenly  host  told  the  shepherds 
at  Bethlehem  of  the  birth  of  Christ,  a  deep  groan,  heard 
through  all  the  isles  of  Greece,  told  that  the  great  Pan 
was  dead,  and  that  all  the  royalty  of  Olympus  was 
dethroned  and  the  several  deities  were  sent  wandering 
in  cold  and  darkness.  So  Milton  in  his  “Hymn  on  the 
Nativity” : 

m* 


“The  lonely  mountains  o’er, 

And  the  resounding  shore, 

A  voice  of  weeping  heard  and  loud  lament; 

From  haunted  spring  and  dale, 

Edged  with  poplar  pale, 

The  parting  Genius  is  with  sighing  sent; 

With  flower-enwoven  tresses  torn, 

The  nymphs  in  twilight  shade  of  tangled  thickets  mourn.” 


ERISICHTHON 


169 


ERISICHTHON 

Erisichthon  was  a  profane  person  and  a  despiser  of 
the  gods.  On  one  occasion  he  presumed  to  violate  with 
the  axe  a  grove  sacred  to  Ceres.  There  stood  in  this 
grove  a  venerable  oak  so  large  that  it  seemed  a  wood 
in  itself,  its  ancient  trunk  towering  aloft,  whereon  vo¬ 
tive  garlands  were  often  hung  and  inscriptions  carved 
expressing  the  gratitude  of  suppliants  to  the  nymph  of 
the  tree.  Often  had  the  Dryads  danced  round  it  hand 
in  hand.  Its  trunk  measured  fifteen  cubits  round,  and 
it  overtopped  the  other  trees  as  they  overtopped  the 
shrubbery.  But  for  all  that,  Erisichthon  saw  no  reason 
why  he  should  spare  it  and  he  ordered  his  servants  to 
cut  it  down.  When  he  saw  them  hesitate  he  snatched 
an  axe  from  one,  and  thus  impiously  exclaimed :  “I  care 
not  whether  it  be  a  tree  beloved  of  the  goddess  or  not; 
were  it  the  goddess  herself  it  should  come  down  if  it 
stood  in  my  way.”  So  saying,  he  lifted  the  axe  and  the 
oak  seemed  to  shudder  and  utter  a  groan.  When  the 
first  blow  fell  upon  the  trunk  blood  flowed  from  the 
wound.  All  the  bystanders  were  horror-struck,  and  one 
of  them  ventured  to  remonstrate  and  hold  back  the  fatal 
axe.  Erisichthon,  with  a  scornful  look,  said  to  him, 
“Receive  the  reward  of  your  piety;”  and  turned  against 
him  the  weapon  which  he  had  held  aside  from  the  tree, 
gashed  his  body  with  many  wounds,  and  cut  off  his 
head.  Then  from  the  midst  of  the  oak  came  a  voice, 
“I  who  dwell  in  this  tree  am  a  nymph  beloved  of  Ceres, 
and  dying  by  your  hands  forewarn  you  that  punish¬ 
ment  awaits  you.”  He  desisted  not  from  his  crime,  and 
at  last  the  tree,  sundered  by  repeated  blows  and  drawn 
by  ropes,  fell  with  a  crash  and  prostrated  a  great  part 
of  the  grove  in  its  fall. 

The  Dryads  in  dismay  at  the  loss  of  their  compan¬ 
ion  and  at  seeing  the  pride  of  the  forest  laid  low,  went 
in  a  body  to  Ceres,  all  clad  in  garments  of  mourning, 
and  invoked  punishment  upon  Erisichthon.  She  nod¬ 
ded  her  assent,  and  as  she  bowed  her  head  the  grain 
ripe  for  harvest  in  the  laden  fields  bowed  also.  She 
planned  a  punishment  so  dire  that  one  would  pity  him, 


170  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


if  such  a  culprit  as  he  could  be  pitied, — to  deliver  him 
over  to  Famine.  As  Ceres  herself  could  not  approach 
Famine,  for  the  Fates  have  ordained  that  these  two 
goddesses  shall  never  come  together,  she  called  an 
Oread  from  her  mountain  and  spoke  to  her  in  these 
words :  “There  is  a  place  in  the  farthest  part  of  ice- 
clad  Scythia,  a  sad  and  sterile  region  without  trees  and 
without  crops.  Cold  dwells  there,  and  Fear  and  Shud¬ 
dering,  and  Famine.  Go  and  jtell  the  last  to  take  pos¬ 
session  of  the  bowels  of  Erisichthon.  Let  not  abundance 
subdue  her,  nor  the  power  of  my  gifts  drive  her  away. 
Be  not  alarmed  at  the  distance’"  (for  Famine  dwells 
very  far  from  Ceres),  “but  take  my  chariot.  The 
dragons  are  fleet  and  obey  the  rein,  and  will  take  you 
through  the  air  in  a  short  time.”  So  she  gave  her  the 
reins,  and  she  drove  away  and  soon  reached  Scythia. 
On  arriving  at  Mount  Caucasus  she  stopped  the  drag¬ 
ons  and  found  Famine  in  a  stony  field,  pulling  up  with 
teeth  and  claws  the  scanty  herbage.  Her  hair  was 
rough,  her  eyes  sunk,  her  face  pale,  her  lips  blanched, 
her  jaws  covered  with  dust,  and  her  skin  drawn  tight, 
so  as  tojshow  all  her  bones.  As  the  Oread  saw  her 
afar  off  (for  she  did  not  dare  to  come  near),  she  de¬ 
livered  the  commands  of  Ceres ;  and,  though  she  stopped 
as  short  a  time  as  possible,  and  kept  her  distance  as 
well  as  she  could,  yet  she  began  to  feel  hungry,  and 
turned  the  dragons’  heads  and  drove  back  to  Thessaly. 

Famine  obeyed  the  commands  of  Ceres  and  sped 
through  the  air  to  the  dwelling  of  Erisichthon,  entered 
the  bedchamber  of  the  guilty  man,  and  found  him  asleep. 
She  enfolded  him  with  her  wings  and  breathed  herself 
into  him,  infusing  her  poison  into  his  veins.  Having 
discharged  her  task,  she  hastened  to  leave  the  land  of 
plenty  and  returned  to  her  accustomed  haunts.  Erisich¬ 
thon  still  slept,  and  in  his  dreams  craved  food,  and 
moved  his  jaws  as  if  eating.  When  he  awoke,  his 
hunger  was  raging.  Without  a  moment’s  delay  he  would 
have  food  set  before  him,  of  whatever  kind  earth,  sea, 
or  air  produces;  and  complained  of  hunger  even  while 
he  ate.  What  would  have  sufficed  for  a  city  or  a  na¬ 
tion,  was  not  enough  for  him.  The  more  he  ate  the 


ERISICHTHON 


171 


more  he  craved.  His  hunger  was  like  the  sea,  which  re^ 
ceives  all  the  rivers,  yet  is  never  filled;  or  like  fire, 
that  burns  all  the  fuel  that  is  heaped  upon  it,  yet  is  still 
voracious  for  more. 

His  property  rapidly  diminished  under  the  unceasing 
demands  of  his  appetite,  but  his  hunger  continued  un¬ 
abated.  At  length  he  had  spent  all  and  had  only  his 
daughter  left,  a  daughter  worthy  of  a  better  parent. 
Her  too  he  sold.  She  scorned  to  be  the  slave  of  a  pur¬ 
chaser  and  as  she  stood  by  the  seaside  raised  her  hands 
in  prayer  to  Neptune.  He  heard  her  prayer,  and  though 
her  new  master  was  not  far  off  and  had  his  eye  upon 
her  a  moment  before,  Neptune  changed  her  form  and 
made  her  assume  that  of  a  fisherman  busy  at  his  oc¬ 
cupation.  Her  master,  looking  for  her  and  seeing  her 
in  her  altered  form,  addressed  her  and  said,  “Good 
fisherman,  whither  went  the  maiden  whom  I  saw  just 
now,  with  hair  dishevelled  and  in  humble  garb,  standing 
about  where  you  stand?  Tell  me  truly;  so  may  your 
luck  be  good  and  not  a  fish  nibble  at  your  hook  and  get 
away.”  She  perceived  that  her  prayer  was  answered 
and  rejoiced  inwardly  at  hearing  herself  inquired  of 
about  herself.  She  replied,  “Pardon  me,  stranger,  but 
I  have  been  so  intent  upon  my  line  that  I  have  seen 
nothing  else;  but  I  wish  I  may  never  catch  another  fish 
if  I  believe  any  woman  or  other  person  except  myself 
to  have  been  hereabouts  for  some  time.”  He  was  de¬ 
ceived  and  went  his  way,  thinking  his  slave  had  escaped. 
Then  she  resumed  her  own  form.  Her  father  was  well 
pleased  to  find  her  still  with  him,  and  the  money  too  that 
he  got  by  the  sale  of  her;  so  he  sold  her  again.  But 
she  was  changed  by  the  favor  of  Neptune  as  often  as 
she  was  sold,  now  into  a  horse,  now  a  bird,  now  an  ox, 
and  now  a  stag, — got  away  from  her  purchasers  and 
came  home.  By  this  base  method  the  starving  father 
procured  food;  but  not  enough  for  his  wants,  and  at  last 
hunger  compelled  him  to  devour  his  limbs,  and  he  strove 
to  nourish  his  body  by  eating  his  body,  till  death  re¬ 
lieved  him  from  the  vengeance  of  Ceres. 


172  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


RHCECUS 

The  Hamadryads  could  appreciate  services  as  well  as 
punish  injuries.  The  story  of  Rhoecus  proves  this. 
Rhoecus,  happening  to  see  an  oak  just  ready  to  fall, 
ordered  his  servants  to  prop  it  up.  The  nymph,  who 
had  been  on  the  point  of  perishing  with  the  tree,  came 
and  expressed  her  gratitude  to  him  for  having  saved 
her  life  and  bade  him  ask  what  reward  he  would. 
Rhoecus  boldly  asked  her  love  and  the  nymph  yielded  to 
his  desire.  She  at  the  same  time  charged  him  to  be 
constant  and  told  him  that  a  bee  should  be  her  mes¬ 
senger  and  let  him  know  when  she  would  admit  his 
society.  One  time  the  bee  came  to  Rhoecus  when  he 
was  playing  at  draughts  and  he  carelessly  brushed  it 
away.  This  so  incensed  the  nymph  that  she  deprived 
him  of  sight. 

Our  countryman,  J.  R.  Lowell,  has  taken  this  story 
for  the  subject  of  one  of  his  shorter  poems.  He  intro¬ 
duces  it  thus : 

“Hear  now  this  fairy  legend  of  old  Greece, 

As  full  of  freedom,  youth  and  beauty  still, 

As  the  immortal  freshness  of  that  grace 
Carved  for  all  ages  on  some  Attic  frieze.” 

THE  WATER  DEITIES 

Oceanus  and  Tethys  were  the  Titans  who  ruled  over 
the  watery  element.  When  Jove  and  his  brothers  over¬ 
threw  the  Titans  and  assumed  their  power,  Neptune  and 
Amphitrite  succeeded  to  the  dominion  of  the  waters  in 
place  of  Oceanus  and  Tethys. 

NEPTUNE 

Neptune  was  the  chief  of  the  water  deities.  The 
symbol  of  his  power  was  the  trident,  or  spear  with 
three  points,  with  which  he  used  to  shatter  rocks,  to 
call  forth  or  subdue  storms,  to  shake  the  shores  and  the 
like.  He  created  the  horse  and  was  the  patron  of 


THE  WATER  DEITIES 


173 


horse  races.  His  own  horses  had  brazen  hoofs  and 
golden  manes.  They  drew  his  chariot  over  the  sea, 
which  became  smooth  before  him,  while  the  monsters 
of  the  deep  gambolled  about  his  path. 


AMPHITRITE 

Amphitrite  was  the  wife  of  Neptune.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  Nereus  and  Doris,  and  the  mother  of  Triton. 
Neptune,  to  pay  his  court  to  Amphitrite,  came  riding  on 
a  dolphin.  Having  won  her  he  rewarded  the  dolphin 
by  placing  him  among  the  stars. 


NEREUS  AND  DORIS 

Nereus  and  Doris  were  the  parents  of  the  Nereids, 
the  most  celebrated  of  whom  were  Amphitrite,  Thetis, 
the  mother  of  Achilles,  and  Galatea,  who  was  loved 
by  the  Cyclops  Polyphemus.  Nereus  was  distinguished 
for  his  knowledge  and  his  love  of  truth  and  justice, 
whence  he  was  termed  an  elder;  the  gift  of  prophecy 
was  also  assigned  to  him. 

TRITON  AND  PROTEUS 

Triton  was  the  son  of  Neptune  and  Amphitrite,  and 
the  poets  make  him  his  father  s  trumpeter.  Proteus 
was  also  a  son  of  Neptune.  He,  like  Nereus,  is  styled 
a  sea-elder  for  his  wisdom  and  knowledge  of  future 
events.  His  peculiar  power  was  that  of  changing  his 
shape  at  will. 


THETIS 

Thetis,  the  daughter  of  Nereus  and  Doris,  was  so 
beautiful  that  Jupiter  himself  sought  her  in  marriage; 
but  having  learned  from  Prometheus  the  Titan  that 
Thetis  should  bear  a  son  who  should  grow  greater  than 
his  father,  Jupiter  desisted  from  his  suit  and  decreed 
that  Thetis  should  be  the  wife  of  a  mortal.  By  the 
aid  of  Chiron  the  Centaur,  Peleus  succeeded  in  winning 


174  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


the  goddess  for  his  bride  and  their  son  was  the  re¬ 
nowned  Achilles.  In  our  chapter  on  the  Trojan  war 
it  will  appear  that  Thetis  was  a  faithful  mother  to  him, 
aiding  him  in  all  difficulties,  and  watching  over  his  in¬ 
terests  from  the  first  to  the  last. 

LEUCOTHEA  AND  PALA2MON 

Ino,  the  daughter  of  Cadmus  and  wife  of  Athamas, 
flying  from  her  frantic  husband  with  her  little  son  Meli- 
certes  in  her  arms,  sprang  from  a  cliff  into  the  sea. 
The  gods,  out  of  compassion,  made  her  a  goddess  of 
the  sea,  under  the  name  of  Leucothea,  and  him  a  god, 
under  that  of  Palaemon.  Both  were  held  powerful  to 
save  from  shipwreck  and  were  invoked  by  sailors. 
Palaemon  was  usually  represented  riding  on  a  dolphin. 
The  Isthmian  games  were  celebrated  in  his  honor.  He 
was  called  Portunus  by  the  Romans,  and  believed  to 
have  jurisdiction  of  the  ports  and  shores. 


Milton  alludes  to  all  these  deities  in  the  song  at  the 
conclusion  of  “Comus” : 

“.  .  .  Sabrina  fair, 

Listen  and  appear  to  us, 

In  name  of  great  Oceanus; 

By  the  earth-shaking  Neptune’s  mace, 

And  Tethys’  grave,  majestic  pace,  ' 

By  hoary  Nereus’  wrinkled  look, 

And  the  Carpathian  wizard’s  hook,1 
By  scaly  Triton’s  winding  shell, 

And  old  soothsaying  Glaucus’  spell, 

By  Leucothea’s  lovely  hands, 

And  her  son  who  rules  the  strands. 

By  Thetis’  tinsel-slippered  feet, 

And  the  songs  of  Sirens  sweet;”  etc. 

Armstrong,  the  poet  of  the  “Art  of  preserving 
Health,”  under  the  inspiration  of  Hygeia,  the  goddess 
of  health,  thus  celebrates  the  Naiads.  Paeon  is  a  name 
both  of  Apollo  and  ^Esculapius. 


1  Proteus. 


THE  WATER  DEITIES 


175 


“Come,  ye  Naiads!  to  the  fountains  lead! 
Propitious  maids !  the  task  remains  to  sing 
Your  gifts  (so  Paeon,  so  the  powers  of  Health 
Command),  to  praise  your  crystal  element. 

O  comfortable  streams !  with  eager  lips 
And  trembling  hands  the  languid  thirsty  quaff 
New  life  in  you;  fresh  vigor  fills  their  veins. 

No  warmer  cups  the  rural  ages  knew, 

None  warmer  sought  the  sires  of  humankind; 
Happy  in  temperate  peace  their  equal  days 
Felt  not  the  alternate  fits  of  feverish  mirth 
And  sick  dejection;  still  serene  and  pleased, 
Blessed  with  divine  immunity  from  ills, 

Long  centuries  they  lived;  their  only  fate 
Was  ripe  old  age,  and  rather  sleep  than  death.” 


THE  CAMENiE 

By  this  name  the  Latins  designated  the  Muses,  but 
included  under  it  also  some  other  deities,  principally 
nymphs  of  fountains.  Egeria  was  one  of  them,  whose 
fountain  and  grotto  are  still  shown.  It  was  said  that 
Numa,  the  second  king  of  Rome,  was  favored  by  this 
nymph  with  secret  interviews,  in  which  she  taught  him 
those  lessons  of  wisdom  and  of  law  which  he  imbodied 
in  the  institutions  of  his  rising  nation.  After  the  death 
of  Numa  the  nymph  pined  away  and  was  changed  into 
a  fountain. 

Byron,  in  “Childe  Harold,”  Canto  IV.,  thus  alludes 
to  Egeria  and  her  grotto : 

“Here  didst  thou  dwell,  in  this  enchanted  cover, 

Egeria !  all  thy  heavenly  bosom  beating 
For  the  far  footsteps  of  thy  mortal  lover; 

The  purple  midnight  veiled  that  mystic  meeting 
With  her  most  starry  canopy;”  etc. 


Tennyson,  also,  in  his  “Palace  of  Art,”  gives  us  a 
glimpse  of  the  royal  lover  expecting  the  interview : 

“Holding  one  hand  against  his  ear, 

To  list  a  footfall  ere  he  saw 
The  wood-nymph,  stayed  the  Tuscan  king  to  hear 
Of  wisdom  and  of  law.” 


176  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


THE  WINDS 

When  so  many  less  active  agencies  were  personified, 
it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  winds  failed  to  be  so. 
They  were  Boreas  or  Aquilo,  the  north  wind;  Zephyrus 
or  Favonius,  the  west;  Notus  or  Auster,  the  south;  and 
Eurus,  the  east.  The  first  two  have  been  chiefly  cele¬ 
brated  by  the  poets,  the  former  as  the  type  of  rude¬ 
ness,  the  latter  of  gentleness.  Boreas  loved  the  nymph 
Orithyia,  and  tried  to  play  the  lover’s  part,  but  met 
with  poor  success.  It  was  hard  for  him  to  breathe 
gently,  and  sighing  was  out  of  the  question.  Weary  at  last 
of  fruitless  endeavors,  he  acted  out  his  true  character, 
seized  the  maiden  and  carried  her  off.  Their  children 
were  Zetes  and  Calais,  winged  warriors,  who  accom¬ 
panied  the  Argonautic  expedition,  and  did  good  service 
in  an  encounter  with  those  monstrous  birds  the  Harpies. 

Zephyrus  was  the  lover  of  Flora.  Milton  alludes 
to  them  in  “Paradise  Lost,”  where  he  describes  Adam 
waking  and  contemplating  Eve  still  asleep. 

“.  .  .  He  on  his  side 

Leaning  half  raised,  with  looks  of  cordial  love, 

Hung  over  her  enamored,  and  beheld 
Beauty  which,  whether  waking  or  asleep, 

Shot  forth  peculiar  graces;  then  with  voice, 

Mild  as  when  Zephyrus  on  Flora  breathes, 

Her  hand  soft  touching,  whispered  thus:  ‘Awake! 

My  fairest,  my  espoused,  my  latest  found, 

Heaven’s  last,  best  gift,  my  ever-new  delight.’” 

Dr.  Young,  the  poet  of  the  “Night  Thoughts,”  ad¬ 
dressing  the  idle  and  luxurious,  says : 

“Ye  delicate!  who  nothing  can  support 
(Yourselves  most  insupportable)  for  whom 
The  winter  rose  must  blow,  .  .  . 

.  .$  .  and  silky  soft 

Favonius  breathe  still  softer  or  be  chid!” 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

( Continued ) 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

ACHELOUS  AND  HERCULES — ADMETUS  AND  ALCESTIS — 

ANTIGONE — PENELOPE 

ACHELOUS  AND  HERCULES 

The  river-god  Achelous  told  the  story  of  Erisichthon 
to  Theseus  and  his  companions,  whom  he  was  enter¬ 
taining  at  his  hospitable  board,  while  they  were  delayed 
on  their  journey  by  the  overflow  of  his  waters.  Having 
finished  his  story,  he  added,  “Brit  why  should  I  tell  of 
other  persons’  transformations  when  I  myself  am  an 
instance  of  the  possession  of  this  power?  Sometimes  I 
become  a  serpent,  and  sometimes  a  bull,  with  horns  on 
my  head.  Or  I  should  say  I  once  could  do  so ;  but  now 
I  have  but  one  horn,  having  lost  one.”  And  here  he 
groaned  and  was  silent. 

Theseus  asked  him  the  cause  of  his  grief,  and  how 
he  lost  his  horn.  To  which  question  the  river-god  re¬ 
plied  as  follows :  “Who  likes  to  tell  of  his  defeats  ? 
Yet  I  will  not  hesitate  to  relate  mine,  comforting  my¬ 
self  with  the  thought  of  the  greatness  of  my  conqueror, 
for  it  was  Hercules.  Perhaps  you  have  heard  of  the 
fame  of  Dejanira,  the  fairest  of  maidens,  whom  a  host 
of  suitors  strove  to  win.  Hercules  and  myself  were  of 
the  number,  and  the  rest  yielded  to  us  two.  He  urged 
in  his  behalf  his  descent  from  Jove  and  his  labors  by 
which  he  had  exceeded  the  exactions  of  Juno,  his  step¬ 
mother.  I,  on  the  other  hand,  said  to  the  father  of  the 
maiden,  ‘Behold  me,  the  king  of  the  waters  that  flow 

177 


178  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


through  your  land.  I  am  no  stranger  from  a  foreign 
shore,  but  belong  to  the  country,  a  part  of  your  realm. 
Let  it  not  stand  in  my  way  that  royal  Juno  owes  me  no 
enmity  nor  punishes  me  with  heavy  tasks.  As  for  this 
man,  who  boasts  himself  the  son  of  Jove,  it  is  either 
a  false  pretence,  or  disgraceful  to  him  if  true,  for  it 
cannot  be  true  except  by  his  mother’s  shame.’  As  I  said 
this  Hercules  scowled  upon  me,  and  with  difficulty  re¬ 
strained  his  rage.  ‘My  hand  will  answer  better  than 
my  tongue,’  said  he.  ‘I  yield  to  you  the  victory  in  words, 
but  trust  my  cause  to  the  strife  of  deeds.’  With  that 
he  advanced  towards  me,  and  I  was  ashamed,  after 
what  I  had  said,  to  yield.  I  threw  off  my  green  vesture 
and  presented  myself  for  the  struggle.  He  tried  to 
throw  me,  now  attacking  my  head,  now  my  body.  My 
bulk  was  my  protection,  and  he  assailed  me  in  vain. 
For  a  time  we  stopped,  then  returned  to  the  conflict. 
We  each  kept  our  position,  determined  not  to  yield,  foot 
to  foot,  I  bending  over  him,  clenching  his  hand  in  mine, 
with  my  forehead  almost  touching  his.  Thrice  Hercules 
tried  to  throw  me  off,  and  the  fourth  time  he  succeed¬ 
ed,  brought  me  to  the  ground,  and  himself  upon  my 
back.  I  tell  you  the  truth,  it  was  as  if  a  mountain  had 
fallen  on  me.  I  struggled  to  get  my  arms  at  liberty, 
panting  and  reeking  with  perspiration.  He  gave  me  no 
chance  to  recover,  but  seized  my  throat.  My  knees 
were  on  the  earth  and  my  mouth  in  the  dust. 

“Finding  that  I  was  no  match  for  him  in  the  warrior’s 
art,  I  resorted  to  others  and  glided  away  in  the  form 
of  a  serpent.  I  curled  my  body  in  a  coil  and  hissed 
at  him  with  my  forked  tongue.  He  smiled  scornfully 
at  this,  and  said,  ‘It  was  the  labor  of  my  infancy  to 
conquer  snakes.’  So  saying  he  clasped  my  neck  with 
his  hands.  I  was  almost  choked,  and  struggled  to  get 
my  neck  out  of  his  grasp.  Vanquished  in  this  form,  I 
tried  what  alone  remained  to  me  and  assumed  the  form 
of  a  bull.  He  grasped  my  neck  with  his  arm,  and  drag¬ 
ging  my  head  down  to  the  ground,  overthrew  me  on 
the  sand.  Nor  was  this  enough.  His  ruthless  hand  rent 
my  horn  from  my  head.  The  Naiades  took  it,  conse¬ 
crated  it,  and  filled  it  with  fragrant  flowers.  Plenty 


ADMETUS  AND  ALCESTIS 


179 


adopted  my  horn  and  made  it  her  own,  and  called  it 
‘Cornucopia/  ” 

The  ancients  were  fond  of  finding  a  hidden  meaning 
in  their  mythological  tales.  They  explain  this  fight  of 
Achelous  with  Hercules  by  saying  Achelous  was  a  river 
that  in  seasons  of  rain  overflowed  its  banks.  When 
the  fable  says  that  Achelous  loved  Dejanira,  and  sought 
a  union  with  her,  the  meaning  is  that  the  river  in  its 
windings  flowed  through  part  of  Dejanira’s  kingdom. 
It  was  said  to  take  the  form  of  a  snake  because  of 
its  winding,  and  of  a  bull  because  it  made  a  brawling 
or  roaring  in  its  course.  When  the  river  swelled,  it 
made  itself  another  channel.  Thus  its  head  was  horned. 
Hercules  prevented  the  return  of  these  periodical  over¬ 
flows  by  embankments  and  canals ;  and  therefore  he  was 
said  to  have  vanquished  the  river-god  and  cut  off  his 
horn.  Finally,  the  lands  formerly  subject  to  overflow, 
but  now  redeemed,  became  very  fertile,  and  this  is  meant 
by  the  horn  of  plenty. 

There  is  another  account  of  the  origin  of  the  Cornu¬ 
copia.  Jupiter  at  his  birth  was  committed  by  his  mother 
Rhea  to  the  care  of  the  daughters  of  Melisseus,  a  Cretan 
king.  They  fed  the  infant  deity  with  the  milk  of  the 
goat  Amalthea.  Jupiter  broke  off  one  of  the  horns 
of  the  goat  and  gave  it  to  his  nurses,  and  endowed  it 
with  the  wonderful  power  of  becoming  filled  with  what¬ 
ever  the  possessor  might  wish. 

The  name  of  Amalthea  is  also  given  by  some  writers 
to  the  mother  of  Bacchus.  It  is  thus  used  by  Milton, 
“Paradise  Lost,”  Book  IV. : 

“.  .  .  That  Nyseian  isle, 

Girt  with  the  river  Triton,  where  old  Cham, 

Whom  Gentiles  Ammon  call,  and  Libyan  Jove, 

Hid  Amalthea  and  her  florid  son, 

Young  Bacchus,  from  his  stepdame  Rhea’s  eye.” 

ADMETUS  AND  ALCESTIS 

^Esculapius,  the  son  of  Apollo,  was  endowed  by  his 
father  with  such  skill  in  the  healing  art  that  he  even 


180  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


restored  the  dead  to  life.  At  this  Pluto  took  alarm* 
and  prevailed  on  Jupiter  to  launch  a  thunderbolt  at 
Hisculapius.  Apollo  was  indignant  at  the  destruction 
of  his  son,  and  wreaked  his  vengeance  on  the  inno¬ 
cent  workmen  who  had  made  the  thunderbolt.  These 
were  the  Cyclopes,  who  have  their  workshop  under 
Mount  TEtna.,  from  which  the  smoke  and  flames  of 
their  furnaces  are  constantly  issuing.  Apollo  shot  his 
arrows  at  the  Cyclopes,  which  so  incensed  Jupiter  that 
he  condemned  him  as  a  punishment  to  become  the  serv¬ 
ant  of  a  mortal  for  the  space  of  one  year.  Accord¬ 
ingly  Apollo  went  into  the  service  of  Admetus,  king  of 
Thessaly,  and  pastured  his  flocks  for  him  on  the  verdant 
banks  of  the  river  Amphrysos. 

Admetus  was  a  suitor,  with  others,  for  the  hand  of 
Alcestis,  the  daughter  of  Pelias,  who  promised  her  to 
him  who  should  come  for  her  in  a  chariot  drawn  by 
lions  and  boars.  This  task  Admetus  performed  by  the 
assistance  of  his  divine  herdsman,  and  was  made  happy 
in  the  possession  of  Alcestis.  But  Admetus  fell  ill, 
and  being  near  to  death,  Apollo  prevailed  on  the  Fates 
to  spare  him  on  condition  that  some  one  would  con¬ 
sent  to  die  in  his  stead.  Admetus,  in  his  joy  at  this 
reprieve,  thought  little  of  the  ransom,  and  perhaps  re¬ 
membering  the  declarations  of  attachment  which  he  had 
often  heard  from  his  courtiers  and  dependents  fancied 
that  it  would  be  easy  to  find  a  substitute.  But  it  was 
not  so.  Brave  warriors,  who  would  willingly  have  per¬ 
illed  their  lives  for  their  prince,  shrunk  from  the  thought 
of  dying  for  him  on  the  bed  of  sickness;  and  old  serv¬ 
ants  who  had  experienced  his  bounty  and  that  of  his 
house  from  their  childhood  up,  were  not  willing  to  lay 
down  the  scanty  remnant  of  their  days  to  show  their 
gratitude.  Men  asked,  “Why  does  not  one  of  his  par¬ 
ents  do  it?  They  cannot  in  the  course  of  nature  live 
much  longer,  and  who  can  feel  like  them  the  call  to 
rescue  the  life  they  gave  from  an  untimely  end?”  But 
the  parents,  distressed  though  they  were  at  the  thought 
of  losing  him,  shrunk  from  the  call.  Then  Alcestis,  with 
a  generous  self-devotion,  proffered  herself  as  the  sub¬ 
stitute.  Admetus,  fond  as  he  was  of  life,  would  not 


ANTIGONE 


181 


have  submitted  to  receive  it  at  such  a  cost;  but  there 
was  no  remedy.  The  condition  imposed  by  the  Fates 
had  been  met,  and  the  decree  was  irrevocable.  Alcestis 
sickened  as  Admetus  revived,  and  she  was  rapidly  sink¬ 
ing  to  the  grave. 

Just  at  this  time  Hercules  arrived  at  the  palace  of 
Admetus,  and  found  all  the  inmates  in  great  distress 
for  the  impending  loss  of  the  devoted  wife  and  beloved 
mistress.  Hercules,  to  whom  no  labor  was  too  arduous, 
resolved  to  attempt  her  rescue.  He  went  and  lay  in 
wait  at  the  door  of  the  chamber  of  the  dying  queen, 
and  when  Death  came  for  his  prey,  he  seized  him  and 
forced  him  to  resign  his  victim.  Alcestis  recovered,  and 
was  restored  to  her  husband. 

Milton  alludes  to  the  story  of  Alcestis  in  his  Sonnet 
“on  his  deceased  wife:” 

“Methought  I  saw  my  late  espoused  saint 
Brought  to  me  like  Alcestis  from  the  grave, 

Whom  Jove’s  great  son  to  her  glad  husband  gave, 
Rescued  from  death  by  force,  though  pale  and  faint.” 

J.  R.  Lowell  has  chosen  the  “Shepherd  of  King  Ad¬ 
metus”  for  the  subject  of  a  short  poem.  He  makes  that 
event  the  first  introduction  of  poetry  to  men. 

“Men  called  him  but  a  shiftless  youth, 

In  whom  no  good  they  saw. 

And  yet  unwittingly,  in  truth, 

They  made  his  careless  words  their  law. 

“And  day  by  day  more  holy  grew 
Each  spot  where  he  had  trod, 

Till  after-poets  only  knew 

Their  first-born  brother  was  a  god.” 

ANTIGONE 

A  large  proportion  both  of  the  interesting  persons 
and  of  the  exalted  acts  of  legendary  Greece  belongs  to 
the  female  sex.  Antigone  was  as  bright  an  example 
of  filial  and  sisterly  fidelity  as  was  Alcestis  of  connu- 


182  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


bial  devotion.  She  was  the  daughter  of  (Edipus  and 
Jocasta,  who  with  all  their  descendants  were  the  victims 
of  an  unrelenting  fate,  dooming  them  to  destruction. 
(Edipus  in  his  madness  had  torn  out  his  eyes,  and  was 
driven  forth  from  his  kingdom  Thebes,  dreaded  and 
abandoned  by  all  men,  as  an  object  of  divine  vengeance. 
Antigone,  his  daughter,  alone  shared  his  wanderings  and 
remained  with  him  till  he  died,  and  then  returned  to 
Thebes. 

Her  brothers,  Eteocles  and  Polynices,  had  agreed  to 
share  the  kingdom  between  them,  and  reign  alternately 
year  by  year.  The  first  year  fell  to  the  lot  of  Eteocles, 
who,  when  his  time  expired,  refused  to  surrender  the 
kingdom  to  his  brother.  Polynices  fled  to  Adrastus, 
king  of  Argos,  who  gave  him  his  daughter  in  marriage, 
and  aided  him  with  an  army  to  enforce  his  claim  to  the 
kingdom.  This  led  to  the  celebrated  expedition  of  the 
“Seven  against  Thebes,”  which  furnished  ample  ma¬ 
terials  for  the  epic  and  tragic  poets  of  Greece. 

Amphiaraus,  the  brother-in-law  of  Adrastus,  opposed 
the  enterprise,  for  he  was  a  soothsayer,  and  knew  by 
his  art  that  no  one  of  the  leaders  except  Adrastus  would 
live  to  return.  But  Amphiaraus,  on  his  marriage  to 
Eriphyle,  the  king’s  sister,  had  agreed  that  whenever  he 
and  Adrastus  should  differ  in  opinion,  the  decision 
should  be  left  to  Eriphyle.  Polynices,  knowing  this, 
gave  Eriphyle  the  collar  of  Harmonia,  and  thereby 
gained  her  to  his  interest.  This  collar  or  necklace  was 
a  present  which  Vulcan  had  given  to  Harmonia  on  her 
marriage  with  Cadmus,  and  Polynices  had  taken  it  with 
him  on  his  flight  from  Thebes.  Eriphyle  could  not  re¬ 
sist  so  tempting  a  bribe,  and  by  her  decision  the  war  was 
resolved  on,  and  Amphiaraus  went  to  his  certain  fate. 
He  bore  his  part  bravely  in  the  contest,  but  could  not 
avert  his  destiny.  Pursued  by  the  enemy,  he  fled  along 
the  river,  when  a  thunderbolt  launched  by  Jupiter 
opened  the  ground,  and  he,  his  chariot,  and  his  chari¬ 
oteer  were  swallowed  up. 

It  would  not  be  in  place  here  to  detail  all  the  acts 
of  heroism  or  atrocity  which  marked  the  contest;  but 
we  must  not  omit  to  record  the  fidelity  of  Evadne  as 


ANTIGONE 


183' 


an  offset  to  the  weakness  of  Eriphyle.  Capaneus,  the 
husband  of  Evadne,  in  the  ardor  of  the  fight  declared 
that  he  would  force  his  way  into  the  city  in  spite  of 
Jove  himself.  Placing  a  ladder  against  the  wall  he 
mounted,  but  Jupiter,  offended  at  his  impious  language, 
struck  him  with  a  thunderbolt.  When  his  obsequies 
were  celebrated,  Evadne  cast  herself  on  his  funeral  pile 
and  perished. 

Early  in  the  contest  Eteocles  consulted  the  sooth¬ 
sayer  Tiresias  as  to  the  issue.  Tiresias  in  his  youth 
had  by  chance  seen  Minerva  bathing.  The  goddess  in 
her  wrath  deprived  him  of  his  sight,  but  afterwards 
relenting  gave  him  in  compensation  the  knowledge  of 
future  events.  When  consulted  by  Eteocles,  he  de¬ 
clared  that  victory  should  fall  to  Thebes  if  Menoeceus, 
the  son  of  Creon,  gave  himself  a  voluntary  victim.  The 
heroic  youth,  learning  the  response,  threw  away  his  life 
in  the  first  encounter. 

The  siege  continued  long,  with  various  success.  At 
length  both  hosts  agreed  that  the  brothers  should  de¬ 
cide  their  quarrel  by  single  combat.  They  fought  and 
fell  by  each  other’s  hands.  The  armies  then  renewed 
the  fight,  and  at  last  the  invaders  were  forced  to  yield, 
and  fled,  leaving  their  dead  unburied.  Creon,  the  uncle 
of  the  fallen  princes,  now  become  king,  caused  Eteocles 
to  be  buried  with  distinguished  honor,  but  suffered  the 
body  of  Polynices  to  lie  where  it  fell,  forbidding  every 
one  on  pain  of  death  to  give  it  burial. 

Antigone,  the  sister  of  Polynices,  heard  with  indigna^ 
tion  the  revolting  edict  which  consigned  her  brother’s 
body  to  the  dogs  and  vultures,  depriving  it  of  those 
rites  which  were  considered  essential  to  the  repose  of 
the  dead.  Unmoved  by  the  dissuading  counsel  of  an 
affectionate  but  timid  sister,  and  unable  to  procure  as¬ 
sistance,  she  determined  to  brave  the  hazard,  and  to 
bury  the  body  with  her  own  hands.  She  was  detected 
in  the  act,  and  Creon  gave  orders  that  she  should  be 
buried  alive,  as  having  deliberately  set  at  naught  the 
solemn  edict  of  the  city.  Her  lover,  Hsemon,  the  son 
of  Creon,  unable  to  avert  her  fate,  would  not  survive 
her,  and  fell  by  his  own  hand. 


184  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


Antigone  forms  the  subject  of  two  fine  tragedies  of 
the  Grecian  poet  Sophocles.  Mrs.  Jameson,  in  her 
“Characteristics  of  Women,”  has  compared  her  char¬ 
acter  with  that  of  Cordelia,  in  Shakspeare’s  “King 
Lear.”  The  perusal  of  her  remarks  cannot  fail  to 
gratify  our  readers. 

The  following  is  the  lamentation  of  Antigone  over 
CEdipus,  when  death  has  at  last  relieved  him  from  his 
sufferings : 

“Alas !  I  only  wished  I  might  have  died 
With  my  poor  father;  wherefore  should  I  ask 
For  longer  life? 

O,  I  was  fond  of  misery  with  him; 

E’en  what  was  most  unlovely  grew  beloved 
When  he  was  with  me.  O  my  dearest  father, 

Beneath  the  earth  now  in  deep  darkness  hid, 

Worn  as  thou  wert  with  age,  to  me  thou  still 
Wast  dear,  and  shalt  be  ever.” 

— Francklin’s  Sophocles. 

PENELOPE 

Penelope  is  another  of  those  mythic  heroines  whose 
beauties  were  rather  those  of  character  and  conduct 
than  of  person.  She  was  the  daughter  of  Icarius,  a 
Spartan  prince.  Ulysses,  king  of  Ithaca,  sought  her 
in  marriage,  and  won  her,  over  all  competitors.  When 
the  moment  came  for  the  bride  to  leave  her  father’s 
house,  Icarius,  unable  to  bear  the  thoughts  of  parting 
with  his  daughter,  tried  to  persuade  her  to  remain  with 
him,  and  not  accompany  her  husband  to  Ithaca.  Ulysses 
gave  Penelope  her  choice,  to  stay  or  go  with  him. 
Penelope  made  no  reply,  but  dropped  her  veil  over  her 
face.  Icarius  urged  her  no  further,  but  when  she  was 
gone  erected  a  statue  to  Modesty  on  the  spot  where  they 
parted. 

Ulysses  and  Penelope  had  not  enjoyed  their  union 
more  than  a  year  when  it  was  interrupted  by  the  events 
which  called  Ulysses  to  the  Trojan  war.  During  his 
long  absence,  and  when  it  was  doubtful  whether  he  still 
lived,  and  highly  improbable  that  he  would  ever  return, 
Penelope  was  importuned  by  numerous  suitors,  from 
whom  there  seemed  no  refuge  but  in  choosing  one  of 


ORPHEUS  AND  EURYDICE 


185 


them  for  her  husband.  Penelope,  however,  employed 
every  art  to  gain  time,  still  hoping  for  Ulysses’  return. 
One  of  her  arts  of  delay  was  engaging  in  the  prepara¬ 
tion  of  a  robe  for  the  funeral  canopy  of  Laertes,  her 
husband’s  father.  She  pledged  herself  to  make  her 
choice  among  the  suitors  when  the  robe  was  finished. 
During  the  day  she  worked  at  the  robe,  but  in  the  night 
she  undid  the  work  of  the  day.  This  is  the  famous 
Penelope’s  web,  which  is  used  as  a  proverbial  expres¬ 
sion  for  anything  which  is  perpetually  doing  but  never 
done.  The  rest  of  Penelope’s  history  will  be  told  when 
we  give  an  account  of  her  husband’s  adventures. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

ORPHEUS  AND  EURYDICE — ARIST^US — AMPHION — LINUS 
— THAMYRIS — MARSYAS — MELAMPUS — MUS^US 

ORPHEUS  AND  EURYDICE 

Orpheus  was  the  son  of  Apollo  and  the  Muse  Cal¬ 
liope.  He  was  presented  by  his  father  with  a  Lyre 
and  taught  to  play  upon  it,  which  he  did  to  such  per¬ 
fection  that  nothing  could  withstand  the  charm  of  his 
music.  Not  only  his  fellow-mortals  but  wild  beasts  were 
softened  by  his  strains,  and  gathering  round  him  laid 
by  their  fierceness,  and  stood  entranced  with  his  lay.  Nay, 
the  very  trees  and  rocks  were  sensible  to  the  charm. 
The  former  crowded  round  him  and  the  latter  relaxed 
somewhat  of  their  hardness,  softened  by  his  notes. 

Hymen  had  been  called  to  bless  with  his  presence 
the  nuptials  of  Orpheus  with  Eurydice;  but  though  he 
attended,  he  brought  no  happy  omens  with  him.  His 
very  torch  smoked  and  brought  tears  into  their  eyes. 
In  coincidence  with  such  prognostics,  Eurydice,  shortly 
after  her  marriage,  while  wandering  with  the  nymphs, 
her  companions,  was  seen  by  the  shepherd  Aristaeus, 
who  was  struck  with  her  beauty  and  made  advances  to 


186  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


her.  She  fled,  and  in  flying  trod  upon  a  snake  in  the 
grass,  was  bitten  in  the  foot,  and  died.  Orpheus  sang 
his  grief  to  all  who  breathed  the  upper  air,  both  gods 
and  men,  and  finding  it  all  unavailing  resolved  to  seek 
his  wife  in  the  regions  of  the  dead.  He  descended  by 
a  cave  situated  on  the  side  of  the  promontory  of  Tsenarus 
and  arrived  at  the  Stygian  realm.  He  passed  through 
crowds  of  ghosts  and  presented  himself  before  the 
throne  of  Pluto  and  Proserpine.  Accompanying  the 
words  with  the  lyre,  he  sung,  “O  deities  of  the  under¬ 
world,  to  whom  all  we  who  live  must  come,  hear  my 
words,  for  they  are  true.  I  come  not  to  spy  out  the 
secrets  of  Tartarus,  nor  to  try  my  strength  against  the 
three-headed  dog  with  snaky  hair  who  guards  the  en¬ 
trance.  I  come  to  seek  my  wife,  whose  opening  years 
the  poisonous  viper’s  fang  has  brought  to  an  untimely 
end.  Love  has  led  me  here,  Love,  a  god  all  power¬ 
ful  with  us  who  dwell  on  the  earth,  and,  if  old  tradi¬ 
tions  say  true,  not  less  so  here.  I  implore  you  by  these 
abodes  full  of  terror,  these  realms  of  silence  and  un¬ 
created  things,  unite  again  the  thread  of  Eurydice’s  life. 
We  all  are  destined  to  you,  and  sooner  or  later  must 

pass  to  your  domain.  She  too,  when  she  shall  have 

filled  her  term  of  life,  will  rightly  be  yours.  But  till 
then  grant  her  to  me,  I  beseech  you.  If  you  deny  me  I 
cannot  return  alone;  you  shall  triumph  in  the  death  of 
us  both.” 

As  he  sang  these  tender  strains,  the  very  ghosts  shed 
tears.  Tantalus,  in  spite  of  his  thirst,  stopped  for  a 
moment  his  efforts  for  water,  Ixion’s  wheel  stood  still, 
the  vulture  ceased  to  tear  the  giant’s  liver,  the  daughters 
of  Danaus  rested  from  their  task  of  drawing  water  in 
a  sieve,  and  Sisyphus  sat  on  his  rock  to  listen.  Then 

for  the  first  time,  it  is  said,  the  cheeks  of  the  Furies 

were  wet  with  tears.  Proserpine  could  not  resist,  and 
Pluto  himself  gave  way.  Eurydice  was  called.  She 
came  from  among  the  new-arrived  ghosts,  limping  with 
her  wounded  foot.  Orpheus  was  permitted  to  take  her 
away  with  him  on  one  condition,  that  he  should  not 
turn  around  to  look  at  her  till  they  should  have  reached 
the  upper  air.  Under  this  condition  they  proceeded  on 


ORPHEUS  AND  EURYDICE 


187 


their  way,  he  leading,  she  following,  through  passages 
dark  and  steep,  in  total  silence,  till  they  had  nearly 
reached  the  outlet  into  the  cheerful  upper  world,  when 
Orpheus,  in  a  moment  of  forgetfulness,  to  assure  him¬ 
self  that  she  was  still  following,  cast  a  glance  behind 
him,  when  instantly  she  was  borne  away.  Stretching 
out  their  arms  to  embrace  each  other,  they  grasped  only 
the  air!  Dying  now  a  second  time,  she  yet  cannot  re¬ 
proach  her  husband,  for  how  can  she  blame  his  impa¬ 
tience  to  behold  her?  “Farewell,”  she  said,  “a  last  fare¬ 
well,” — and  was  hurried  away,  so  fast  that  the  sound 
hardly  reached  his  ears. 

Orpheus  endeavored  to  follow  her,  and  besought  per¬ 
mission  to  return  and  try  once  more  for  her  release; 
but  the  stern  ferryman  repulsed  him  and  refused  pas¬ 
sage.  Seven  days  he  lingered  about  the  brink,  without 
food  or  sleep ;  then  bitterly  accusing  of  cruelty  the 
powers  of  Erebus,  he  sang  his  complaints  to  the  rocks 
and  mountains,  melting  the  hearts  of  tigers  and  moving 
the  oaks  from  their  stations.  He  held  himself  aloof 
from  womankind,  dwelling  constantly  on  the  recollection 
of  his  sad  mischance.  The  Thracian  maidens  tried  their 
best  to  captivate  him,  but  he  repulsed  their  advances. 
They  bore  with  him  as  long  as  they  could;  but  finding 
him  insensible  one  day,  excited  by  the  rites  of  Bacchus, 
one  of  them  exclaimed,  “See  yonder  our  despiser!”  and 
threw  at  him  her  javelin.  The  weapon,  as  soon  as  it 
came  within  the  sound  of  his  lyre,  fell  harmless  at  his 
feet.  So  did  also  the  stones  that  they  threw  at  him.  But 
the  women  raised  a  scream  and  drowned  the  voice  of  the 
music,  and  then  the  missiles  reached  him  and  soon  were 
stained  with  his  blood.  The  maniacs  tore  him  limb  from 
limb,  and  threw  his  head  and  his  lyre  into  the  river 
Hebrus,  down  which  they  floated,  murmuring  sad  music, 
to  which  the  shores  responded  a  plaintive  symphony. 
The  Muses  gathered  up  the  fragments  of  his  body  and 
buried  them  at  Libethra,  where  the  nightingale  is  said 
to  sing  over  his  grave  more  sweetly  than  in  any  other 
part  of  Greece.  His  lyre  was  placed  by  Jupiter  among 
the  stars.  His  shade  passed  a  second  time  to  Tartarus, 
where  he  sought  out  his  Eurydice  and  embraced  her 


188  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


with  eager  arms.  They  roam  the  happy  fields  together 
now,  sometimes  he  leading,  sometimes  she ;  and  Orpheus 
gazes  as  much  as  he  will  upon  her,  no  longer  incurring 
a  penalty  for  a  thoughtless  glance. 

The  story  of  Orpheus  has  furnished  Pope  with  an 
illustration  of  the  power  of  music,  for  his  “Ode  for  St. 
Cecilia’s  Day.”  The  following  stanza  relates  the  con¬ 
clusion  of  the  story: 

“But  soon,  too  soon  the  lover  turns  his  eyes; 

Again  she  falls,  again  she  dies,  she  dies ! 

How  wilt  thou  now  the  fatal  sisters  move? 

No  crime  was  thine,  if  ’t  is  no  crime  to  love. 

Now  under  hanging  mountains, 

Beside  the  falls  of  fountains, 

Or  where  Hebrus  wanders, 

Rolling  in  meanders, 

All  alone, 

He  makes  his  moan, 

And  calls  her  ghost, 

Forever,  ever,  ever  lost! 

Now  with  furies  surrounded, 

Despairing,  confounded, 

He  trembles,  he  glows, 

Amidst  Rhodope’s  snows. 

See,  wild  as  the  winds  o’er  the  desert  he  flies; 

Hark!  Haemus  resounds  with  the  Bacchanals’  cries; 

Ah,  see,  he  dies ! 

Yet  even  in  death  Eurydice  he  sung, 

Eurydice  still  trembled  on  his  tongue: 

Eurydice  the  woods 

Eurydice  the  floods 

Eurydice  the  rocks  and  hollow  mountains  rung.” 

The  superior  melody  of  the  nightingale’s  song  over 
the  grave  of  Orpheus  is  alluded  to  by  Southey  in  his 
“Thalaba” : 


“Then  on  his  ear  what  sounds 
Of  harmony  arose! 

Far  music  and  the  distance-mellowed  song 
From  bowers  of  merriment; 

The  waterfall  remote ; 

The  murmuring  of  the  leafy  groves; 

The  single  nightingale 
Perched  in  the  rosier  by,  so  richly  toned. 
That  never  from  that  most  melodious  bird 


ARISTiEUS,  THE  BEE-KEEPER 


189 


Singing  a  love  song  to  his  brooding  mate, 

Did  Thracian  shepherd  by  the  grave 
Of  Orpheus  hear  a  sweeter  melody, 

Though  there  the  spirit  of  the  sepulchre 
All  his  own  power  infuse,  to  swell 
The  incense  that  he  loves/’ 

ARIST^US,  THE  BEE-KEEPER 

Man  avails  himself  of  the  instincts  of  the  inferior 
animals  for  his  own  advantage.  Hence  sprang  the  art 
of  keeping  bees.  Honey  must  first  have  been  known  as 
a  wild  product,  the  bees  building  their  structures  in  hol¬ 
low  trees  or  holes  in  the  rocks,  or  any  similar  cavity  that 
chance  offered.  Thus  occasionally  the  carcass  of  a  dead 
animal  would  be  occupied  by  the  bees  for  that  purpose. 
It  was  no  doubt  from  some  such  incident  that  the  super¬ 
stition  arose  that  the  bees  were  engendered  by  the  de¬ 
caying  flesh  of  the  animal ;  and  Virgil,  in  the  following 
story,  shows  how  this  supposed  fact  may  be  turned  to 
account  for  renewing  the  swarm  when  it  has  been  lost 
by  disease  or  accident : 

Aristseus,  who  first  taught  the  management  of  bees, 
was  the  son  of  the  water-nymph  Cyrene.  His  bees  had 
perished,  and  he  resorted  for  aid  to  his  mother.  He 
stood  at  the  river  side  and  thus  addressed  her:  “O 
mother,  the  pride  of  my  life  is  taken  from  me!  I  have 
lost  my  precious  bees.  My  care  and  skill  have  availed  me 
nothing,  and  you  my  mother  have  not  warded  off  from 
me  the  blow  of  misfortune.”  His  mother  heard  these 
complaints  as  she  sat  in  her  palace  at  the  bottom  of  the 
river,  with  her  attendant  nymphs  around  her.  They 
were  engaged  in  female  occupations,  spinning  and  weav¬ 
ing,  while  one  told  stories  to  amuse  the  rest.  The  sad 
voice  of  Aristseus  interrupting  their  occupation,  one  of 
them  put  her  head  above  the  water  and  seeing  him,  re¬ 
turned  and  gave  information  to  his  mother,  who  ordered 
that  he  should  be  brought  into  her  presence.  The  river 
at  her  command  opened  itself  and  let  him  pass  in,  while 
it  stood  curled  like  a  mountain  on  either  side.  He  de¬ 
scended  to  the  region  where  the  fountains  of  the  great 
rivers  lie;  he  saw  the  enormous  receptacles  of  waters 


190  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


and  was  almost  deafened  with  the  roar,  while  he  sur¬ 
veyed  them  hurrying  off  in  various  directions  to  water 
the  face  of  the  earth.  Arriving  at  his  mother’s  apart¬ 
ment,  he  was  hospitably  received  by  Cyrene  and  her 
nymphs,  who  spread  their  table  with  the  richest  dainties. 
They  first  poured  out  libations  to  Neptune,  then  regaled 
themselves  with  the  feast,  and  after  that  Cyrene  thus 
addressed  him :  “There  is  an  old  prophet  named  Proteus, 
who  dwells  in  the  sea  and  is  a  favorite  of  Neptune, 
whose  herd  of  sea-calves  he  pastures.  We  nymphs  hold 
him  in  great  respect,  for  he  is  a  learned  sage  and  knows 
all  things,  past,  present,  and  to  come.  He  can  tell  you, 
my  son,  the  cause  of  the  mortality  among  your  bees, 
and  how  you  may  remedy  it.  But  he  will  not  do  it  vol¬ 
untarily,  however  you  may  entreat  him.  You  must  com¬ 
pel  him  by  force.  If  you  seize  him  and  chain  him,  he 
will  answer  your  questions  in  order  to  get  released,  for 
he  cannot  by  all  his  arts  get  away  if  you  hold  fast  the 
chains.  I  will  carry  you  to  his  cave,  where  he  comes 
at  noon  to  take  his  midday  repose.  Then  you  may 
easily  secure  him.  But  when  he  finds  himself  captured, 
his  resort  is  to  a  power  he  possesses  of  changing  himself 
into  various  forms.  He  will  become  a  wild  boar  or  a 
fierce  tiger,  a  scaly  dragon  or  lion  with  yellow  mane.  Or 
he  will  make  a  noise  like  the  crackling  of  flames  or  the 
rush  of  water,  so  as  to  tempt  you  to  let  go  the  chain, 
when  he  will  make  his  escape.  But  you  have  only  to 
keep  him  fast  bound,  and  at  last  when  he  finds  all  his 
arts  unavailing,  he  will  return  to  his  own  figure  and 
obey  your  commands.”  So  saying  she  sprinkled  her  son 
with  fragrant  nectar,  the  beverage  of  the  gods,  and  im¬ 
mediately  an  unusual  vigor  filled  his  frame,  and  courage 
his  heart,  while  perfume  breathed  all  around  him. 

The  nymph  led  her  son  to  the  prophet’s  cave  and  con¬ 
cealed  him  among  the  recesses  of  the  rocks,  while  she 
herself  took  her  place  behind  the  clouds.  When  noon 
came  and  the  hour  when  men  and  herds  retreat  from 
the  glaring  sun  to  indulge  in  quiet  slumber,  Proteus 
issued  from  the  water,  followed  by  his  herd  of  sea-calves 
which  spread  themselves  along  the  shore.  He  sat  on 
the  rock  and  counted  his  herd ;  then  stretched  himself  on 


ARISTAEUS,  THE  BEE-KEEPER 


191 


the  floor  of  the  cave  and  went  to  sleep.  Aristaeus  hardly 
allowed  him  to  get  fairly  asleep  before  he  fixed  the  fet¬ 
ters  on  him  and  shouted  aloud.  Proteus,  waking  and 
finding  himself  captured,  immediately  resorted  to  his 
arts,  becoming  first  a  fire,  then  a  flood,  then  a  horrible 
wild  beast,  in  rapid  succession.  But  finding  all  would 
not  do,  he  at  last  resumed  his  own  form  and  addressed 
the  youth  in  angry  accents :  “Who  are  you,  bold  youth, 
who  thus  invade  my  abode,  and  what  do  you  want  of 
me?”  Aristaeus  replied,  “Proteus,  you  know  already, 
for  it  is  needless  for  any  one  to  attempt  to  deceive  you. 
And  do  you  also  cease  your  efforts  to  elude  me.  I  am 
led  hither  by  divine  assistance,  to  know  from  you  the 
cause  of  my  misfortune  and  how  to  remedy  it.”  At 
these  words  the  prophet,  fixing  on  him  his  gray  eyes 
with  a  piercing  look,  thus  spoke:  “You  receive  the 
merited  reward  of  your  deeds,  by  which  Eurydice  met 
her  death,  for  in  flying  from  you  she  trod  upon  a  serpent, 
of  whose  bite  she  died.  To  avenge  her  death,  the 
nymphs,  her  companions,  have  sent  this  destruction  to 
your  bees.  You  have  to  appease  their  anger,  and  thus 
it  must  be  done :  Select  four  bulls,  of  perfect  form  and 
size,  and  four  cows  of  equal  beauty,  build  four  altars  to 
the  nymphs,  and  sacrifice  the  animals,  leaving  their  car¬ 
casses  in  the  leafy  grove.  To  Orpheus  and  Eurydice 
you  shall  pay  such  funeral  honors  as  may  allay  their  re¬ 
sentment.  Returning  after  nine  days,  you  will  examine 
the  bodies  of  the  cattle  slain  and  see  what  will  befall.” 
Aristaeus  faithfully  obeyed  these  directions.  He  sacri¬ 
ficed  the  cattle,  he  left  their  bodies  in  the  grove,  he 
offered  funeral  honors  to  the  shades  of  Orpheus  and 
Eurydice;  then  returning  on  the  ninth  day  he  examined 
the  bodies  of  the  animals,  and,  wonderful  to  relate!  a 
swarm  of  bees  had  taken  possession  of  one  of  the  car¬ 
casses  and  were  pursuing  their  labors  there  as  in  a  hive. 

In  “The  Task,”  Cowper  alludes  to  the  story  of 
Aristaeus,  when  speaking  of  the  ice-palace  built  by  the 
Empress  Anne  of  Russia.  He  has  been  describing  the 
fantastic  forms  which  ice  assumes  in  connection  with 
waterfalls,  etc. : 


192  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


“Less  worthy  of  applause  though  more  admired 
Because  a  novelty,  the  work  of  man, 

Imperial  mistress  of  the  fur-clad  Russ, 

Thy  most  magnificent  and  mighty  freak, 

The  wonder  of  the  north.  No  forest  fell 
When  thou  wouldst  build,  no  quarry  sent  its  stores 
T’  enrich  thy  walls ;  but  thou  didst  hew  the  floods 
And  make  thy  marble  of  the  glassy  wave. 

In  such  a  palace  Aristaeus  found 
Cyrene,  when  he  bore  the  plaintive  tale 
Of  his  lost  bees  to  her  maternal  ear.” 


Milton  also  appears  to  have  had  Cyrene  and  her 
domestic  scene  in  his  mind  when  he  describes  to  us 
Sabrina,  the  nymph  of  the  river  Severn,  in  the  Guard¬ 
ian-spirit’s  Song  in  “Comus” : 

“Sabrina  fair! 

Listen  where  thou  art  sitting 
Under  the  glassy,  cool,  translucent  wave 
In  twisted  braids  of  lilies  knitting 
The  loose  train  of  thy  amber-dropping  hair; 

Listen  for  dear  honor’s  sake, 

Goddess  of  the  silver  lake! 

Listen  and  save.” 


The  following  are  other  celebrated  mythical  poets 
and  musicians,  some  of  whom  were  hardly  inferior  to 
Orpheus  himself : 


AMPHION 

l 

Amphion  was  the  son  of  Jupiter  and  Antiope,  queen 
of  Thebes.  With  his  twin  brother  Zethus  he  was  ex¬ 
posed  at  birth  on  Mount  Cithaeron,  where  they  grew  up 
among  the  shepherds,  not  knowing  their  parentage. 
Mercury  gave  Amphion  a  lyre  and  taught  him  to  play 
upon  it,  and  his  brother  occupied  himself  in  hunting  and 
tending  the  flocks.  Meanwhile  Antiope,  their  mother, 
who  had  been  treated  with  great  cruelty  by  Lycus,  the 
usurping  king  of  Thebes,  and  by  Dirce,  his  wife,  found 
means  to  inform  her  children  of  their  rights  and  to 
summon  them  to  her  assistance.  With  a  band  of  their 
fellow-herdsmen  they  attacked  and  slew  Lycus,  and  tying 
Dirce  by  the  hair  of  her  head  to  a  bull,  let  him  drag  her 


.  MELAMPUS 


193 


till  she  was  dead.  Amphion,  having  become  king  of 
Thebes,  fortified  the  city  with  a  wall.  It  is  said  that 
when  he  played  on  his  lyre  the  stones  moved  of  their 
own  accord  and  took  their  places  in  the  wall. 

See  Tennyson’s  poem  of  “Amphion”  for  an  amusing 
use  made  of  this  story. 

LINUS 

Linus  was  the  instructor  of  Hercules  in  music,  but 
having  one  day  reproved  his  pupil  rather  harshly,  he 
roused  the  anger  of  Hercules,  who  struck  him  with  his 
lyre  and  killed  him. 

THAMYRIS 

An  ancient  Thracian  bard,  who  in  his  presumption 
challenged  the  Muses  to  a  trial  of  skill,  and  being  over¬ 
come  in  the  contest,  was  deprived  by  them  of  his  sight. 
Milton  alludes  to  him  with  other  blind  bards,  when 
speaking  of  his  own  blindness,  “Paradise  Lost,”  Book 
III.,  35. 

MARSYAS 

Minerva  invented  the  flute,  and  played  upon  it  to  the 
delight  of  all  the  celestial  auditors;  but  the  mischievous 
urchin  Cupid  having  dared  to  laugh  at  the  queer  face 
which  the  goddess  made  while  playing,  Minerva  threw 
the  instrument  indignantly  away,  and  it  fell  down  to 
earth,  and  was  found  by  Marsyas.  He  blew  upon 
it,  and  drew  from  it  such  ravishing  sounds  that  he 
was  tempted  to  challenge  Apollo  himself  to  a  musical 
contest.  The  god  of  course  triumphed,  and  punished 
Marsyas  by  flaying  him  alive. 

MELAMPUS 

Melampus  was  the  first  mortal  endowed  with  pro¬ 
phetic  powers.  Before  his  house  there  stood  an  oak 
tree  containing  a  serpent’s  nest.  The  old  serpents  were 
killed  by  the  servants,  but  Melampus  took  care  of  the 
young  ones  and  fed  them  carefully.  One  day  when  he 
was  asleep  under  the  oak  the  serpents  licked  his  ears 


194  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


with  their  tongues.  On  awaking  he  was  astonished  to 
find  that  he  now  understood  the  language  of  birds  and 
creeping  things.  This  knowledge  enabled  him  to  fore¬ 
tell  future  events,  and  he  became  a  renowned  soothsayer. 
At  one  time  his  enemies  took  him  captive  and  kept  him 
strictly  imprisoned.  Melampus  in  the  silence  of  the  night 
heard  the  woodworms  in  the  timbers  talking  together, 
and  found  out  by  what  they  said  that  the  timbers  were 
nearly  eaten  through  and  the  roof  would  soon  fall  in. 
He  told  his  captors  and  demanded  to  be  let  out,  warn¬ 
ing  them  also.  They  took  his  warning,  and  thus  escaped 
destruction,  and  rewarded  Melampus  and  held  him  in 
high  honor. 

MUS^EUS 

A  semi-mythological  personage  who  was  represented 
by  one  tradition  to  be  the  son  of  Orpheus.  He  is  said 
to  have  written  sacred  poems  and  oracles.  Milton 
couples  his  name  with  that  of  Orpheus  in  his  “II 
Penseroso” : 

“But  O,  sad  virgin,  that  thy  power 
Might  raise  Musseus  from  his  bower, 

Or  bid  the  soul  of  Orpheus  sing 
Such  notes  as  warbled  to  the  string, 

Drew  iron  tears  down  Pluto’s  cheek, 

And  made  Hell  grant  what  love  did  seek.” 


CHAPTER  XXV 

ARION — IBYCUS — SIMONIDES — SAPPHO 

The  poets  whose  adventures  compose  this  chapter 
were  real  persons  some  of  whose  works  yet  remain, 
and  their  influence  on  poets  who  succeeded  them  is  yet 
more  important  than  their  poetical  remains.  The  adven¬ 
tures  recorded  of  them  in  the  following  stories  rest  on 
the  same  authority  as  other  narratives  of  the  “Age  of 
Fable,”  that  is,  of  the  poets  who  have  told  them.  In 
their  present  form,  the  first  two  are  translated  from 


ARION 


195 


the  German,  Arion  from  Schlegel,  and  Ibycus  from 
Schiller. 

ARION 

Arion  was  a  famous  musician,  and  dwelt  in  the  court 
of  Periander,  king  of  Corinth,  with  whom  he  was  a 
great  favorite.  There  was  to  be  a  musical  contest  in 
Sicily,  and  Arion  longed  to  compete  for  the  prize. 
He  told  his  wish  to  Periander,  who  besought  him  like 
a  brother  to  give  up  the  thought.  “Pray  stay  with 
me,”  he  said,  “and  be  contented.  He  who  strives  to 
win  may  lose.”  Arion  answered,  “A  wandering  life 
best  suits  the  free  heart  of  a  poet.  The  talent  which 
a  god  bestowed  on  me,  I  would  fain  make  a  source  of 
pleasure  to  others.  And  if  I  win  the  prize,  how  will 
the  enjoyment  of  it  be  increased  by  the  consciousness 
of  my  widespread  fame !”  He  went,  won  the  prize,  and 
embarked  with  his  wealth  in  a  Corinthian  ship  for  home. 
On  the  second  morning  after  setting  sail,  the  wind 
breathed  mild  and  fair.  “O  Periander,”  he  exclaimed, 
“dismiss  your  fears !  Soon  shall  you  forget  them  in  my 
embrace.  With  what  lavish  offerings  will  we  display 
our  gratitude  to  the  gods,  and  how  merry  will  we  be  at 
the  festal  board !”  The  wind  and  sea  continued  propi¬ 
tious.  Not  a  cloud  dimmed  the  firmament.  He  had 
not  trusted  too  much  to  the  ocean — but  he  had  to  man. 
He  overheard  the  seamen  exchanging  hints  with  one 
another,  and  found  they  were  plotting  to  possess  them¬ 
selves  of  his  treasure.  Presently  they  surrounded  him 
loud  and  mutinous,  and  said,  “Arion,  you  must  die!  If 
you  would  have  a  grave  on  shore,  yield  yourself  to  die 
on  this  spot;  but  if  otherwise,  cast  yourself  into  the 
sea.”  “Will  nothing  satisfy  you  but  my  life?”  said 
he.  “Take  my  gold,  and  welcome.  I  willingly  buy 
my  life  at  that  price.”  “No,  no;  we  cannot  spare  you. 
Your  life  would  be  too  dangerous  to  us.  Where  could 
we  go  to  escape  from  Periander,  if  he  should  know  that 
you  had  been  robbed  by  us?  Your  gold  would  be  of 
little  use  to  us,  if  on  returning  home,  wTe  could  never 
more  be  free  from  fear.”  “Grant  me,  then,”  said  he,  “a 
last  request,  since  nought  will  avail  to  save  my  life,  that  I 


196  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


may  die,  as  I  have  lived,  as  becomes  a  bard.  When  I 
shall  have  sung  my  death  song,  and  my  harp-strings 
shall  have  ceased  to  vibrate,  then  I  will  bid  farewell  to 
life,  and  yield  uncomplaining  to  my  fate.”  This  prayer, 
like  the  others,  would  have  been  unheeded, — they 
thought  only  of  their  booty, — but  to  hear  so  famous  a 
musician,  that  moved  their  rude  hearts.  “Suffer  me,” 
he  added,  “to  arrange  my  dress.  Apollo  will  not  favor 
me  unless  I  be  clad  in  my  minstrel  garb.” 

He  clothed  his  well-proportioned  limbs  in  gold  and 
purple  fair  to  see,  his  tunic  fell  around  him  in  graceful 
folds,  jewels  adorned  his  arms,  his  brow  was  crowned 
with  a  golden  wreath,  and  over  his  neck  and  shoulders 
flowed  his  hair  perfumed  with  odors.  His  left  hand 
held  the  lyre,  his  right  the  ivory  wand  with  which  he 
struck  its  chords.  Like  one  inspired,  he  seemed  to 
drink  the  morning  air  and  glitter  in  the  morning  ray. 
The  seamen  gazed  with  admiration.  He  strode  forward 
to  the  vessel’s  side  and  looked  down  into  the  deep  blue 
sea.  Addressing  his  lyre,  he  sang,  “Companion  of  my 
voice,  come  with  me  to  the  realm  of  shades.  Though 
Cerberus  may  growl,  we  know  the  power  of  song  can 
tame  his  rage.  Ye  heroes  of  Elysium,  who  have  passed 
the  darkling  flood, — ye  happy  souls,  soon  shall  I  join 
your  band.  Yet  can  ye  relieve  my  grief?  Alas,  I  leave 
my  friend  behind  me.  Thou,  who  didst  find  thy  Euryd- 
ice,  and  lose  her  again  as  soon  as  found;  when  she  had 
vanished  like  a  dream,  how  didst  thou  hate  the  cheerful 
light !  I  must  away,  but  I  will  not  fear.  The  gods  look 
down  upon  us.  Ye  who  slay  me  unoffending,  when  I 
am  no  more,  your  time  of  trembling  shall  come.  Ye 
Nereids,  receive  your  guest,  who  throws  himself  upon 
your  mercy!”  So  saying,  he  sprang  into  the  deep  sea. 
The  waves  covered  him,  and  the  seamen  held  on  their 
way,  fancying  themselves  safe  from  all  danger  of  de¬ 
tection. 

But  the  strains  of  his  music  had  drawn  round  him 
the  inhabitants  of  the  deep  to  listen,  and  Dolphins  fol¬ 
lowed  the  ship  as  if  chained  by  a  spell.  While  he 
struggled  in  the  waves,  a  Dolphin  offered  him  his  back, 
and  carried  him  mounted  thereon  safe  to  shore.  At  the 


ARION 


197 


spot  where  he  landed,  a  monument  of  brass  was  after¬ 
wards  erected  upon  the  rocky  shore,  to  preserve  the 
memory  of  the  event. 

When  Arion  and  the  dolphin  parted,  each  to  his  own 
element,  Arion  thus  poured  forth  his  thanks:  “Farewell, 
thou  faithful,  friendly  fish !  Would  that  I  could  reward 
thee ;  but  thou  canst  not  wend  with  me,  nor  I  with  thee. 
Companionship  we  may  not  have.  May  Galatea,  queen 
of  the  deep,  accord  thee  her  favor,  and  thou,  proud  of 
the  burden,  draw  her  chariot  over  the  smooth  mirror  of 
the  deep.” 

Arion  hastened  from  the  shore,  and  soon  saw  before 
him  the  towers  of  Corinth.  He  journeyed  on,  harp  in 
hand,  singing  as  he  went,  full  of  love  and  happiness, 
forgetting  his  losses,  and  mindful  only  of  what  re¬ 
mained,  his  friend  and  his  lyre.  He  entered  the  hos¬ 
pitable  halls,  and  was  soon  clasped  in  the  embrace  of 
Periander.  “I  come  back  to  thee,  my  friend,”  he  said. 
“The  talent  which  a  god  bestowed  has  been  the  delight 
of  thousands,  but  false  knaves  have  stripped  me  of  my 
well-earned  treasure;  yet  I  retain  the  consciousness  of 
wide  spread  fame.”  Then  he  told  Periander  all  the  won¬ 
derful  events  that  had  befallen  him,  who  heard  him 
with  amazement.  “Shall  such  wickedness  triumph  ?”  said 
he.  “Then  in  vain  is  power  lodged  in  my  hands.  That 
we  may  discover  the  criminals,  you  must  remain  here 
in  concealment,  and  so  they  will  approach  without  sus¬ 
picion.”  When  the  ship  arrived  in  the  harbor,  he  sum¬ 
moned  the  mariners  before  him.  “Have  you  heard 
anything  of  Arion?”  he  inquired.  “I  anxiously  look  for 
his  return.”  They  replied,  “We  left  him  well  and  pros¬ 
perous  in  Tarentum.”  As  they  said  these  words,  Arion 
stepped  forth  and  faced  them.  His  well-proportioned 
limbs  were  arrayed  in  gold  and  purple  fair  to  see,  his 
tunic  fell  around  him  in  graceful  folds,  jewels  adorned 
his  arms,  his  brow  was  crowned  with  a  golden  wreath, 
and  over  his  neck  and  shoulders  flowed  his  hair  per¬ 
fumed  with  odors;  his  left  hand  held  the  lyre,  his  right 
the  ivory  wand  with  which  he  struck  its  chords.  They 
fell  prostrate  at  his  feet,  as  if  a  lightning  bolt  had  struck 
them.  “We  meant  to  murder  him,  and  he  has  become 


198  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


a  god.  O  Earth,  open  and  receive  us !”  Then  Periander 
spoke.  “He  lives,  the  master  of  the  lay !  Kind  Heaven 
protects  the  poet’s  life.  As  for  you,  I  invoke  not  the 
spirit  of  vengeance;  Arion  wishes  not  your  blood.  Ye 
slaves  of  avarice,  begone !  Seek  some  barbarous  land, 
and  never  may  aught  beautiful  delight  your  souls!” 

Spenser  represents  Arion,  mounted  on  his  dolphin, 
accompanying  the  train  of  Neptune  and  Amphitrite: 

“Then  was  there  heard  a  most  celestial  sound 
Of  dainty  music  which  did  next  ensue, 

And,  on  the  floating  waters  as  enthroned, 

Arion  with  his  harp  unto  him  drew 

The  ears  and  hearts  of  all  that  goodly  crew; 

Even  when  as  yet  the  dolphin  which  him  bore 
Through  the  /Egean  Seas  from  pirates’  view, 

Stood  still,  by  him  astonished  at  his  lore, 

And  all  the  raging  seas  for  joy  forgot  to  roar.” 

Byron,  in  his  “Childe  Harold,”  Canto  II.,  alludes  to 
the  story  of  Arion,  when,  describing  his  voyage,  he 
represents  one  of  the  seamen  making  music  to  entertain 
the  rest: 

“The  moon  is  up;  by  Heaven  a  lovely  eve! 

Long  streams  of  light  o’er  dancing  waves  expand; 

Now  lads  on  shore  may  sigh  and  maids  believe; 

Such  be  our  fate  when  we  return  to  land ! 

Meantime  some  rude  Arion’s  restless  hand 
Wakes  the  brisk  harmony  that  sailors  love; 

A  circle  there  of  merry  listeners  stand, 

Or  to  some  well-known  measure  featly  move 
Thoughtless  as  if  on  shore  they  still  were  free  to  rove.” 


IBYCUS 

In  order  to  understand  the  story  of  Ibycus  which 
follows  it  is  necessary  to  remember,  first,  that  the 
theatres  of  the  ancients  were  immense  fabrics  capable 
of  containing  from  ten  to  thirty  thousand  spectators, 
and  as  they  were  used  only  on  festival  occasions,  and 
admission  was  free  to  all,  they  were  usually  filled. 
They  were  without  roofs  and  open  to  the  sky,  and  the 
performances  were  in  the  daytime.  Secondly,  the  ap¬ 
palling  representation  of  the  Furies  is  not  exaggerated 


IBYCUS 


199 

in  the  story.  It  is  recorded  that  zEschylus,  the  tragic 
poet,  having  on  one  occasion  represented  the  Furies  in 
a  chorus  of  fifty  performers,  the  terror  of  the  specta¬ 
tors  was  such  that  many  fainted  and  were  thrown  into 
convulsions,  and  the  magistrates  forbade  a  like  repre¬ 
sentation  for  the  future. 

Ibycus,  the  pious  poet,  was  on  his  way  to  the  chariot 
races  and  musical  competitions  held  at  the  Isthmus  of 
Corinth,  which  attracted  all  of  Grecian  lineage.  Apollo 
had  bestowed  on  him  the  gfft  of  song,  the  honeyed  lips 
of  the  poet,  and  he  pursued  his  way  with  lightsome  step, 
full  of  the  god.  Already  the  towers  of  Corinth  crown¬ 
ing  the  height  appeared  in  view,  and  he  had  entered 
with  pious  awe  the  sacred  grove  of  Neptune.  No  living 
object  was  in  sight,  only  a  flock  of  cranes  flew  overhead 
taking  the  same  course  as  himself  in  their  migration  to 
a  southern  clime.  “Good  luck  to  you,  ye  friendly  squad¬ 
rons,”  he  exclaimed,  “my  companions  from  across  the 
sea.  I  take  your  company  for  a  good  omen.  We  come 
from  far  and  fly  in  search  of  hospitality.  May  both 
of  us  meet  that  kind  reception  which  shields  the  stranger 
guest  from  harm !” 

He  paced  briskly  on,  and  soon  was  in  the  middle  of 
the  wood.  There  suddenly,  at  a  narrow  pass,  two  rob¬ 
bers  stepped  forth  and  barred  his  way.  He  must  yield 
or  fight.  But  his  hand,  accustomed  to  the  lyre,  and 
not  to  the  strife  of  arms,  sank  powerless.  He  called 
for  help  on  men  and  gods,  but  his  cry  reached  no  de¬ 
fender’s  ear.  “Then  here  must  I  die,”  said  he,  “in  a 
strange  land,  unlamented,  cut  off  by  the  hand  of  out¬ 
laws,  and  see  none  to  avenge  my  cause.”  Sore  wounded, 
he  sank  to  the  earth,  when  hoarse  screamed  the  cranes 
overhead.  “Take  up  my  cause,  ye  cranes,”  he  said,  “since 
no  voice  but  yours  answers  to  my  cry.”  So  saying  he 
closed  his  eyes  in  death. 

The  body,  despoiled  and  mangled,  was  found,  and 
though  disfigured  with  wounds,  was  recognized  by  the 
friend  in  Corinth  who  had  expected  him  as  a  guest. 
“Is  it  thus  I  find  you  restored  to  me?”  he  exclaimed. 
“I  who  hoped  to  entwine  your  temples  with  the  wreath 
of  triumph  in  the  strife  of  song!” 


200  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


The  guests  assembled  at  the  festival  heard  the  tidings 
with  dismay.  All  Greece  felt  the  wound,  every  heart 
owned  its  loss.  They  crowded  round  the  tribunal  of 
the  magistrates,  and  demanded  vengeance  on  the  mur¬ 
derers  and  expiation  with  their  blood. 

But  what  trace  or  mark  shall  point  out  the  perpe¬ 
trator  from  amidst  the  vast  multitude  attracted  by  the 
splendor  of  the  feast?  Did  he  fall  by  the  hands  of 
robbers  or  did  some  private  enemy  slay  him?  The  all- 
discerning  sun  alone  can  tell,  for  no  other  eye  beheld 
it.  Yet  not  improbably  the  murderer  even  now  walks 
in  the  midst  of  the  throng,  and  enjoys  the  fruits  of  his 
crime,  while  vengeance  seeks  for  him  in  vain.  Perhaps 
in  their  own  temple’s  enclosure  he  defies  the  gods, 
mingling  freely  in  this  throng  of  men  that  now  presses 
into  the  amphitheatre. 

For  now  crowded  together,  row  on  row,  the  multi¬ 
tude  fill  the  seats  till  it  seems  as  if  the  very  fabric  would 
give  way.  The  murmur  of  voices  sounds  like  the  roar 
of  the  sea,  while  the  circles  widening  in  their  ascent  rise 
tier  on  tier,  as  if  they  would  reach  the  sky. 

And  now  the  vast  assemblage  listens  to  the  awful 
voice  of  the  chorus  personating  the  Furies,  which  in 
solemn  guise  advances  with  measured  step,  and  moves 
around  the  circuit  of  the  theatre.  Can  they  be  mortal 
women  who  compose  that  awful  group,  and  can  that 
vast  concourse  of  silent  forms  be  living  beings? 

The  choristers,  clad  in  black,  bore  in  their  fleshless 
hands  torches  blazing  with  a  pitchy  flame.  Their  cheeks 
were  bloodless,  and  in  place  of  hair  writhing  and  swell¬ 
ing  serpents  curled  around  their  brows.  Forming  a 
circle,  these  awful  beings  sang  their  hymns,  rending  the 
hearts  of  the  guilty,  and  enchaining  all  their  faculties. 
It  rose  and  swelled,  overpowering  the  sound  of  the  in¬ 
struments,  stealing  the  judgment,  palsying  the  heart, 
curdling  the  blood. 

“Happy  the  man  who  keeps  his  heart  pure  from  guilt 
and  crime !  Him  we  avengers  touch  not ;  he  treads  the 
path  of  life  secure  from  us.  But  woe !  woe !  to  him 
who  has  done  the  deed  of  secret  murder.  We  the  fear¬ 
ful  family  of  Night  fasten  ourselves  upon  his  whole 


SIMONIDES 


201 


being.  Thinks  he  by  flight  to  escape  us?  We  fly  still 
faster  in  pursuit,  twine  our  snakes  around  his  feet,  and 
bring  him  to  the  ground.  Unwearied  we  pursue;  no 
pity  checks  our  course;  still  on  and  on,  to  the  end  of 
life,  we  give  him  no  peace  nor  rest.”  Thus  the  Eume- 
nides  sang,  and  moved  in  solemn  cadence,  while  stillness 
like  the  stillness  of  death  sat  over  the  whole  assembly 
as  if  in  the  presence  of  superhuman  beings;  and  then 
in  solemn  march  completing  the  circuit  of  the  theatre, 
they  passed  out  at  the  back  of  the  stage. 

Every  heart  fluttered  between  illusion  and  reality,  and 
every  breast  panted  with  undefined  terror,  quailing  be¬ 
fore  the  awful  power  that  watches  secret  crimes  and 
winds  unseen  the  skein  of  destiny.  At  that  moment  a 
cry  burst  forth  from  one  of  the  uppermost  benches — « 
“Look !  look !  comrade,  yonder  are  the  cranes  of 
Ibycus!”  And  suddenly  there  appeared  sailing  across 
the  sky  a  dark  object  which  a  moment’s  inspection 
showed  to  be  a  flock  of  cranes  flying  directly  over  the 
theatre.  “Of  Ibycus!  did  he  say?”  The  beloved  name 
revived  the  sorrow  in  every  breast.  As  wave  follows 
wave  over  the  face  of  the  sea,  so  ran  from  mouth 
to  mouth  the  words,  “Of  Ibycus !  him  whom  we  all  la¬ 
ment,  whom  some  murderer’s  hand  laid  low!  What 
have  the  cranes  to  do  with  him?”  And  louder  grew  the 
swell  of  voices,  while  like  a  lightning’s  flash  the  thought 
sped  through  every  heart,  “Observe  the  power  of  the 
Eumenides  !  The  pious  poet  shall  be  avenged !  the  mur¬ 
derer  has  informed  against  himself.  Seize  the  man  who 
uttered  that  cry  and  the  other  to  whom  he  spoke!” 

The  culprit  would  gladly  have  recalled  his  words,  but 
it  was  too  late.  The  faces  of  the  murderers,  pale  with 
terror,  betrayed  their  guilt  The  people  took  them  be¬ 
fore  the  judge,  they  confessed  their  crime,  and  suffered 
the  punishment  they  deserved. 

SIMONIDES 

Simonides  was  one  of  the  most  prolific  of  the  early 
poets  of  Greece,  but  only  a  few  fragments  of  his  com¬ 
positions  have  descended  to  us.  He  wrote  hymns,  tri- 


202  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


umphal  odes,  and  elegies.  In  the  last  species  of  com¬ 
position  he  particularly  excelled.  His  genius  was 
inclined  to  the  pathetic,  and  none  could  touch  with  truer 
effect  the  chords  of  human  sympathy.  The  “Lamenta¬ 
tion  of  Danae,”  the  most  important  of  the  fragments 
which  remain  of  his  poetry,  is  based  upon  the  tradition 
that  Danae  and  her  infant  son  were  confined  by  order 
of  her  father,  Acrisius,  in  a  chest  and  set  adrift  on  the 
sea.  The  chest  floated  towards  the  island  of  Seriphus, 
where  both  were  rescued  by  Dictys,  a  fisherman,  and 
carried  to  Polydectes,  king  of  the  country,  who  received 
and  protected  them.  The  child,  Perseus,  when  grown  up 
became  a  famous  hero,  whose  adventures  have  been  re¬ 
corded  in  a  previous  chapter. 

Simonides  passed  much  of  his  life  at  the  courts  of 
princes,  and  often  employed  his  talents  in  panegyric  and 
festal  odes,  receiving  his  reward  from  the  munificence 
of  those  whose  exploits  he  celebrated.  This  employment 
was  not  derogatory,  but  closely  resembles  that  of  the 
earliest  bards,  such  as  Demodocus,  described  by  Homer, 
or  of  Homer  himself,  as  recorded  by  tradition. 

On  one  occasion,  when  residing  at  the  court  of  Scopas, 
king  of  Thessaly,  the  prince  desired  him  to  prepare  a 
poem  in  celebration  of  his  exploits,  to  be  recited  at  a 
banquet  In  order  to  diversify  his  theme,  Simonides, 
who  was  celebrated  for  his  piety,  introduced  into  his 
poem  the  exploits  of  Castor  and  Pollux.  Such  digres¬ 
sions  were  not  unusual  with  the  poets  on  similar  oc¬ 
casions,  and  one  might  suppose  an  ordinary  mortal 
might  have  been  content  to  share  the  praises  of  the 
sons  of  Leda.  But  vanity  is  exacting;  and  as  Scopas 
sat  at  his  festal  board  among  his  courtiers  and  syco¬ 
phants,  he  grudged  every  verse  that  did  not  rehearse  his 
own  praises.  When  Simonides  approached  to  receive 
the  promised  reward  Scopas  bestowed  but  half  the  ex¬ 
pected  sum,  saying,  “Here  is  payment  for  my  portion 
of  thy  performance;  Castor  and  Pollux  will  doubtless 
compensate  thee  for  so  much  as  relates  to  them.”  The 
disconcerted  poet  returned  to  his  seat  amidst  the  laugh¬ 
ter  which  followed  the  great  man’s  jest.  In  a  little 
time  he  received  a  message  that  two  young  men  on 


SAPPHO 


203  j 

horseback  were  waiting  without  and  anxious  to  see  him. 
Simonides  hastened  to  the  door,  but  looked  in  vain  for 
the  visitors.  Scarcely,  however,  had  he  left  the  banquet¬ 
ing  hall  when  the  roof  fell  in  with  a  loud  crash,  bury¬ 
ing  Scopas  and  all  his  guests  beneath  the  ruins.  On 
inquiring  as  to  the  appearance  of  the  young  men  who 
had  sent  for  him,  Simonides  was  satisfied  that  they  were 
110  other  than  Castor  and  Pollux  themselves. 

SAPPHO 

Sappho  was  a  poetess  who  flourished  in  a  very  early 
age  of  Greek  literature.  Of  her  works  few  fragments 
remain,  but  they  are  enough  to  establish  her  claim  to 
eminent  poetical  genius.  The  story  of  Sappho  com¬ 
monly  alluded  to  is  that  she  was  passionately  in  love 
with  a  beautiful  youth  named  Phaon,  and  failing  to 
obtain  a  return  of  affection  she  threw  herself  from  the 
promontory  of  Leucadia  into  the  sea,  under  a  supersti¬ 
tion  that  those  who  should  take  that  “Lover’s-leap” 
would,  if  not  destroyed,  be  cured  of  their  love. 

Byron  alludes  to  the  story  of  Sappho  in  “Childe 
Harold,”  Canto  II. : 

“Childe  Harold  sailed  and  passed  the  barren  spot 
Where  sad  Penelope  o’erlooked  the  wave, 

And  onward  viewed  the  mount,  not  yet  forgot, 

The  lover’s  refuge  and  the  Lesbian’s  grave. 

Dark  Sappho !  could  not  verse  immortal  save 
That  breast  imbued  with  such  immortal  fire? 

“’Twas  on  a  Grecian  autumn’s  gentle  eve 
Childe  Harold  hailed  Leucadia’s  cape  afar;”  etc. 

Those  who  wish  to  know  more  of  Sappho  and  her 
“leap”  are  referred  to  the  “Spectator,”  Nos.  223  and 
229.  See  also  Moore’s  “Evenings  in  Greece.” 


204  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

ENDYMION - ORION - AURORA  AND  TITHONUS - ACIS  AND 

GALATEA 

DIANA  AND  ENDYMION 

Endymion  was  a  beautiful  youth  who  fed  his  flock 
on  Mount  Latmos.  One  calm,  clear  night  Diana,  the 
moon,  looked  down  and  saw  him  sleeping.  The  cold 
heart  of  the  virgin  goddess  was  warmed  by  his  sur¬ 
passing  beauty,  and  she  came  down  to  him,  kissed  him, 
and  watched  over  him  while  he  slept. 

Another  story  was  that  Jupiter  bestowed  on  him  the 
gift  of  perpetual  youth  united  with  perpetual  sleep.  Of 
one  so  gifted  we  can  have  but  few  adventures  to  re¬ 
cord.  Diana,  it  was  said,  took  care  that  his  fortunes 
should  not  suffer  by  his  inactive  life,  for  she  made  his 
flock  increase,  and  guarded  his  sheep  and  lambs  from 
the  wild  beasts. 

The  story  of  Endymion  has  a  peculiar  charm  from 
the  human  meaning  which  it  so  thinly  veils.  We  see 
in  Endymion  the  young  poet,  his  fancy  and  his  heart 
seeking  in  vain  for  that  which  can  satisfy  them,  finding 
his  favorite  hour  in  the  quiet  moonlight,  and  nursing 
there  beneath  the  beams  of  the  bright  and  silent  wit¬ 
ness  the  melancholy  and  the  ardor  which  consumes  him. 
The  story  suggests  aspiring  and  poetic  love,  a  life  spent 
more  in  dreams  than  in  reality,  and  an  early  and  wel¬ 
come  death. — S.  G.  B. 

The  “Endymion”  of  Keats  is  a  wild  and  fanciful 
poem,  containing  some  exquisite  poetry,  as  this,  to  the 
moon : 


:.  .  .  The  sleeping  kine 

Couched  in  thy  brightness  dream  of  fields  divine. 
Innumerable  mountains  rise,  and  rise, 

Ambitious  for  the  hallowing  of  thine  eyes, 


ORION 


205 


And  yet  thy  benediction  passeth  not 
One  obscure  hiding-place,  one  little  spot 
Where  pleasure  may  be  sent;  the  nested  wren 
Has  thy  fair  face  within  its  tranquil  ken;”  etc.,  etc. 

Dr.  Young,  in  the  “Night  Thoughts,”  alludes  to 
Endymion  thus : 

.  .  These  thoughts,  O  night,  are  thine; 

From  thee  they  came  like  lovers’  secret  sighs, 

While  others  slept.  So  Cynthia,  poets  feign, 

In  shadows  veiled,  soft,  sliding  from  her  sphere, 

Her  shepherd  cheered,  of  her  enamoured  less 
Than  I  of  thee.” 


Fletcher,  in  the  “Faithful  Shepherdess,”  tells : 

“How  the  pale  Phoebe,  hunting  in  a  grove, 

First  saw  the  boy  Endymion,  from  whose  eyes 
She  took  eternal  fire  that  never  dies; 

How  she  conveyed  him  softly  in  a  sleep, 

His  temples  bound  with  poppy,  to  the  steep 
Head  of  old  Latmos,  where  she  stoops  each  night, 
Gilding  the  mountain  with  her  brother’s  light, 

To  kiss  her  sweetest.” 


ORION 

Orion  was  the  son  of  Neptune.  He  was  a  handsome 
giant  and  a  mighty  hunter.  His  father  gave  him  the 
power  of  wading  through  the  depths  of  the  sea,  or,  as 
others  say,  of  walking  on  its  surface. 

Orion  loved  Merope,  the  daughter  of  (Enopion,  king 
of  Chios,  and  sought  her  in  marriage.  He  cleared  the 
island  of  wild  beasts,  and  brought  the  spoils  of  the  chase 
as  presents  to  his  beloved;  but  as  (Enopion  constantly 
deferred  his  consent,  Orion  attempted  to  gain  possession 
of  the  maiden  by  violence.  Her  father,  incensed  at 
this  conduct,  having  made  Orion  drunk,  deprived  him 
of  his  sight  and  cast  him  out  on  the  seashore.  The 
blinded  hero  followed  the  sound  of  a  Cyclops’  hammer 
till  he  reached  Lemnos,  and  came  to  the  forge  of  Vul¬ 
can,  who,  taking  pity  on  him,  gave  him  Kedalion,  one 
of  his  men,  to  be  his  guide  to  the  abode  of  the  sun. 


206  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


Placing  Kedalion  on  his  shoulders,  Orion  proceeded  to 
the  east,  and  there  meeting  the  sun-god,  was  restored 
to  sight  by  his  beam. 

After  this  he  dwelt  as  a  hunter  with  Diana,  with 
whom  he  was  a  favorite,  and  it  is  even  said  she  was 
about  to  marry  him.  Her  brother  was  highly  displeased 
and  often  chid  her,  but  to  no  purpose.  One  day,  ob¬ 
serving  Orion  wading  through  the  sea  with  his  head 
just  above  the  water,  Apollo  pointed  it  out  to  his  sister 
and  maintained  that  she  could  not  hit  that  black  thing 
on  the  sea.  The  archer-goddess  discharged  a  shaft  with 
fatal  aim.  The  waves  rolled  the  dead  body  of  Orion 
to  the  land,  and  bewailing  her  fatal  error  with  many 
tears,  Diana  placed  him  among  the  stars,  where  he  ap¬ 
pears  as  a  giant,  with  a  girdle,  sword,  lion’s  skin,  and 
club.  Sirius,  his  dog,  follows  him,  and  the  Pleiads  fly 
before  him. 

The  Pleiads  were  daughters  of  Atlas,  and  nymphs  of 
Diana’s  train.  One  day  Orion  saw  them  and  became 
enamoured  and  pursued  them.  In  their  distress  they 
prayed  to  the  gods  to  change  their  form,  and  Jupiter 
in  pity  turned  them  into  pigeons,  and  then  made  them 
a  constellation  in  the  sky.  Though  their  number  was 
seven,  only  six  stars  are  visible,  for  Electra,  one  of 
them,  it  is  said  left  her  place  that  she  might  not  behold 
the  ruin  of  Troy,  for  that  city  was  founded  by  her  son 
Dardanus.  The  sight  had  such  an  effect  on  her  sisters 
that  they  have  looked  pale  ever  since. 

Mr.  Longfellow  has  a  poem  on  the  “Occultation  of 
Orion.”  The  following  lines  are  those  in  which  he 
alludes  to  the  mythic  story.  We  must  premise  that  on 
the  celestial  globe  Orion  is  represented  as  robed  in  a 
lion’s  skin  and  wielding  a  club.  At  the  moment  the  stars 
of  the  constellation,  one  by  one,  were  quenched  in  the 
light  of  the  moon,  the  poet  tells  us 

“Down  fell  the  red  skin  of  the  lion 
Into  the  river  at  his  feet. 

His  mighty  club  no  longer  beat 
The  forehead  of  the  bull;  but  he 
Reeled  as  of  yore  beside  the  sea, 


AURORA  AND  TITHONUS 


207 


When  blinded  by  CEnopion 
He  sought  the  blacksmith  at  his  forge, 

And  climbing  up  the  narrow  gorge, 

Fixed  his  blank  eyes  upon  the  sun.” 

Tennyson  has  a  different  theory  of  the  Pleiads : 

“Many  a  night  I  saw  the  Pleiads,  rising  through  the  mellow 
shade, 

Glitter  like  a  swarm  of  fire-flies  tangled  in  a  silver  braid.” 

— Locksley  Hall. 


Byron  alludes  to  the  lost  Pleiad : 

“Like  the  lost  Pleiad  seen  no  more  below.” 

See  also  Mrs.  Hemans’s  verses  on  the  same  subject. 

AURORA  AND  TITHONUS 

The  goddess  of  the  Dawn,  like  her  sister  the  Moon, 
was  at  times  inspired  with  the  love  of  mortals.  Her 
greatest  favorite  was  Tithonus,  son  of  Laomedon,  king 
of  Troy.  She  stole  him  away,  and  prevailed  on  Jupi¬ 
ter  to  grant  him  immortality;  but,  forgetting  to  have 
youth  joined  in  the  gift,  after  some  time  she  began  to 
discern,  to  her  great  mortification,  that  he  was  growing 
old.  When  his  hair  was  quite  white  she  left  his  soci¬ 
ety;  but  he  still  had  the  range  of  her  palace,  lived  on 
ambrosial  food,  and  was  clad  in  celestial  raiment.  At 
length  he  lost  the  power  of  using  his  limbs,  and  then 
she  shut  him  up  in  his  chamber,  whence  his  feeble  voice 
might  at  times  be  heard.  Finally  she  turned  him  into 
a  grasshopper. 

Memnon  was  the  son  of  Aurora  and  Tithonus.  He 
was  king  of  the  ^Ethiopians,  and  dwelt  in  the  extreme 
east,  on  the  shore  of  Ocean.  He  came  with  his  war¬ 
riors  to  assist  the  kindred  of  his  father  in  the  war  of 
Troy.  King  Priam  received  him  with  great  honors, 
and  listened  with  admiration  to  his  narrative  of  the 
wonders  of  the  ocean  shore. 

The  very  day  after  his  arrival,  Memnon,  impatient 
of  repose,  led  his  troops  to  the  field.  Antilochus,  the 


208  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


orave  son  of  Nestor,  fell  by  his  hand,  and  the  Greeks 
were  put  to  flight,  when  Achilles  appeared  and  restored 
the  battle.  A  long  and  doubtful  contest  ensued  between 
him  and  the  son  of  Aurora;  at  length  victory  declared 
for  Achilles,  Memnon  fell,  and  the  Trojans  fled  in 
dismay. 

Aurora,  who  from  her  station  in  the  sky  had  viewed 
with  apprehension  the  danger  of  her  son,  when  she 
saw  him  fall,  directed  his  brothers,  the  Winds,  to  con¬ 
vey  his  body  to  the  banks  of  the  river  Esepus  in  Paph- 
lagonia.  In  the  evening  Aurora  came,  accompanied 
by  the  Hours  and  the  Pleiads,  and  wept  and  lamented 
over  her  son.  Night,  in  sympathy  with  her  grief, 
spread  the  heaven  with  clouds;  all  nature  mourned  for 
the  offspring  of  the  Dawn.  The  ^Ethiopians  raised  his 
tomb  on  the  banks  of  the  stream  in  the  grove  of  the 
Nymphs,  and  Jupiter  caused  the  sparks  and  cinders  of 
his  funeral  pile  to  be  turned  into  birds,  which,  dividing 
into  two  flocks,  fought  over  the  pile  till  they  fell  into 
the  flame.  Every  year  at  the  anniversary  of  his  death 
they  return  and  celebrate  his  obsequies  in  like  manner. 
Aurora  remains  inconsolable  for  the  loss  of  her  son. 
Her  tears  still  flow,  and  may  be  seen  at  early  morning 
in  the  form  of  dew-drops  on  the  grass. 

Unlike  most  of  the  marvels  of  ancient  mythology, 
there  still  exist  some  memorials  of  this.  On  the  banks 
of  the  river  Nile,  in  Egypt,  are  two  colossal  statues, 
one  of  which  is  said  to  be  the  statue  of  Memnon.  An¬ 
cient  writers  record  that  when  the  first  rays  of  the 
rising  sun  fall  upon  this  statue  a  sound  is  heard  to  issue 
from  it,  which  they  compare  to  the  snapping  of  a  harp¬ 
string.  There  is  some  doubt  about  the  identification  of 
the  existing  statue  with  the  one  described  by  the  an¬ 
cients,  and  the  mysterious  sounds  are  still  more  doubtful. 
Yet  there  are  not  wanting  some  modern  testimonies  to 
their  being  still  audible.  It  has  been  suggested  that 
sounds  produced  by  confined  air  making  its  escape  from 
crevices  or  caverns  in  the  rocks  may  have  given  some 
ground  for  the  story.  Sir  Gardner  Wilkinson,  a  late 
traveller,  of  the  highest  authority,  examined  the  statue 


ACTS  AND  GALATEA 


209 


itself,  and  discovered  that  it  was  hollow,  and  that  “in 
the  lap  of  the  statue  is  a  stone,  which  on  being  struck 
emits  a  metallic  sound,  that  might  still  be  made  use  of 
to  deceive  a  visitor  who  was  predisposed  to  believe  its 
powers.” 

The  vocal  statue  of  Memnon  is  a  favorite  subject 
of  allusion  with  the  poets.  Darwin,  in  his  “Botanic  Gar¬ 
den,”  says: 

“So  to  the  sacred  Sun  in  Memnon’s  fane 
Spontaneous  concords  choired  the  matin  strain; 

Touched  by  his  orient  beam  responsive  rings 
The  living  lyre  and  vibrates  all  its  strings ; 

Accordant  aisles  the  tender  tones  prolong, 

And  holy  echoes  swell  the  adoring  song.” 

Book  I.,  1.,  182. 


ACIS  AND  GALATEA 

Scylla  was  a  fair  virgin  of  Sicily,  a  favorite  of  the 
Sea-Nymphs.  She  had  many  suitors,  but  repelled  them 
all,  and  would  go  to  the  grotto  of  Galatea,  and  tell  her 
how  she  was  persecuted.  One  day  the  goddess,  while 
Scylla  dressed  her  hair,  listened  to  the  story,  and  then 
replied,  “Yet,  maiden,  your  persecutors  are  of  the  not 
ungentle  race  of  men,  whom,  if  you  will,  you  can  repel; 
but  I,  the  daughter  of  Nereus,  and  protected  by  such 
a  band  of  sisters,  found  no  escape  from  the  passion  of 
the  Cyclops  but  in  the  depths  of  the  sea;”  and  tears 
stopped  her  utterance,  which  when  the  pitying  maiden 
had  wiped  away  with  her  delicate  finger,  and  soothed 
the  goddess,  “Tell  me,  dearest,”  said  she,  “the  cause  of 
your  grief.”  Galatea  then  said,  “Acis  was  the  son  of 
Faunus  and  a  Naiad.  His  father  and  mother  loved  him 
dearly,  but  their  love  was  not  equal  to  mine.  For  the 
beautiful  youth  attached  himself  to  me  alone,  and  he 
was  just  sixteen  years  old,  the  down  just  beginning  to 
darken  his  cheeks.  As  much  as  I  sought  his  society,  so 
much  did  the  Cyclops  seek  mine;  and  if  you  ask  me 
whether  my  love  for  Acis  or  my  hatred  of  Polyphemus 
was  the  stronger,  I  cannot  tell  you;  they  were  in  equal 
measure.  O  Venus,  how  great  is  thy  power!  this  fierce 
giant,  the  terror  of  the  woods,  whom  no  hapless  stranger 


210  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


escaped  unharmed,  who  defied  even  Jove  himself,  learned 
to  feel  what  love  was,  and,  touched  with  a  passion  for 
me,  forgot  his  flocks  and  his  well-stored  caverns.  Then 
for  the  first  time  he  began  to  take  some  care  of  his 
appearance,  and  to  try  to  make  himself  agreeable;  he 
harrowed  those  coarse  locks  of  his  with  a  comb,  and 
mowed  his  beard  with  a  sickle,  looked  at  his  harsh  fea¬ 
tures  in  the  water,  and  composed  his  countenance.  His 
love  of  slaughter,  his  fierceness  and  thirst  of  blood  pre¬ 
vailed  no  more,  and  ships  that  touched  at  his  island 
went  away  in  safety.  He  paced  up  and  down  the  sea¬ 
shore,  imprinting  huge  tracks  with  his  heavy  tread,  and, 
when  weary,  lay  tranquilly  in  his  cave. 

“There  is  a  cliff  which  projects  into  the  sea,  which 
washes  it  on  either  side.  Thither  one  day  the  huge 
Cyclops  ascended,  and  sat  down  while  his  flocks  spread 
themselves  around.  Laying  down  his  staff,  which  would 
have  served  for  a  mast  to  hold  a  vessel’s  sail,  and  tak¬ 
ing  his  instrument  compacted  of  numerous  pipes,  he 
made  the  hills  and  the  waters  echo  the  music  of  his 
song.  I  lay  hid  under  a  rock  by  the  side  of  my  beloved 
Acis,  and  listened  to  the  distant  strain.  It  was  full 
of  extravagant  praises  of  my  beauty,  mingled  with  pas¬ 
sionate  reproaches  of  my  coldness  and  cruelty. 

“When  he  had  finished  he  rose  up,  and,  like  a  raging 
bull  that  cannot  stand  still,  wandered  off  into  the  woods. 
Acis  and  I  thought  no  more  of  him,  till  on  a  sudden 
he  came  to  a  spot  which  gave  him  a  view  of  us  as  we 
sat.  T  see  you,’  he  exclaimed,  ‘and  I  will  make  this  the 
last  of  your  love-meetings.’  His  voice  was  a  roar  such 
as  an  angry  Cyclops  alone  could  utter.  ^Etna  trembled 
at  the  sound.  I,  overcome  with  terror,  plunged  into  the 
water.  Acis  turned  and  fled,  crying,  ‘Save  me,  Galatea, 
save  me,  my  parents !’  The  Cyclops  pursued  him,  and 
tearing  a  rock  from  the  side  of  the  mountain  hurled  it 
at  him.  Though  only  a  corner  of  it  touched  him,  it 
overwhelmed  him. 

“All  that  fate  left  in  my  power  I  did  for  Acis.  I 
endowed  him  with  the  honors  of  his  grandfather,  the 
river-god.  The  purple  blood  flowed  out  from  under 
the  rock,  but  by  degrees  grew  paler  and  looked  like  the 


THE  TROJAN  WAR 


211 


stream  of  a  river  rendered  turbid  by  rains,  and  in  time 
it  became  clear.  The  rock  cleaved  open,  and  the 
water,  as  it  gushed  from  the  chasm,  uttered  a  pleasing 
murmur.” 

Thus  Acis  was  changed  into  a  river,  and  the  river 
retains  the  name  of  Acis. 

Dryden,  in  his  “Cymon  and  Iphigenia,”  has  told  the 
story  of  a  clown  converted  into  a  gentleman  by  the 
power  of  love,  in  a  way  that  shows  traces  of  kindred  to 
the  old  story  of  Galatea  and  the  Cyclops. 

“What  not  his  father's  care  nor  tutor’s  art 
Could  plant  with  pains  in  his  unpolished  heart, 

The  best  instructor,  Love,  at  once  inspired, 

As  barren  grounds  to  fruitfulness  are  fired. 

Love  taught  him  shame,  and  shame  with  love  at  strife 
Soon  taught  the  sweet  civilities  of  life.” 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE  TROJAN  WAR 

Minerva  was  the  goddess  of  wisdom,  but  on  one 
occasion  she  did  a  very  foolish  thing;  she  entered  into 
competition  with  Juno  and  Venus  for  the  prize  of 
beauty.  It  happened  thus:  At  the  nuptials  of  Peleus 
and  Thetis  all  the  gods  were  invited  with  the  excep¬ 
tion  of  Eris,  or  Discord.  Enraged  at  her  exclusion, 
the  goddess  threw  a  golden  apple  among  the  guests, 
with  the  inscription,  “For  the  fairest.”  Thereupon 
Juno,  Venus,  and  Minerva  each  claimed  the  apple. 
Jupiter,  not  willing  to  decide  in  so  delicate  a  matter, 
sent  the  goddesses  to  Mount  Ida,  where  the  beautiful 
shepherd  Paris  was  tending  his  flocks,  and  to  him  was 
committed  the  decision.  The  goddesses  accordingly  ap¬ 
peared  before  him.  Juno  promised  him  power  and 
riches,  Minerva  glory  and  renown  in  war,  and  Venus 
the  fairest  of  women  for  his  wife,  each  attempting  to 
bias  his  decision  in  her  own  favor.  Paris  decided  ic 


212  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


favor  of  Venus  and  gave  her  the  golden  apple,  thus 
making  the  two  other  goddesses  his  enemies.  Under 
the  protection  of  Venus,  Paris  sailed  to  Greece,  and 
was  hospitably  received  by  Menelaus,  king  of  Sparta. 
Now  Helen,  the  wife  of  Menelaus,  was  the  very  wom¬ 
an  whom  Venus  had  destined  for  Paris,  the  fairest 
of  her  sex.  She  had  been  sought  as  a  bride  by  numer¬ 
ous  suitors,  and  before  her  decision  was  made  known, 
they  all,  at  the  suggestion  of  Ulysses,  one  of  their  num¬ 
ber,  took  an  oath  that  they  would  defend  her  from  all 
injury  and  avenge  her  cause  if  necessary.  She  chose 
Menelaus,  and  was  living  with  him  happily  when  Paris 
became  their  guest.  Paris,  aided  by  Venus,  persuaded 
her  to  elope  with  him,  and  carried  her  to  Troy,  whence 
arose  the  famous  Trojan  war,  the  theme  of  the  greatest 
poems  of  antiquity,  those  of  Homer  and  Virgil. 

Menelaus  called  upon  his  brother  chieftains  of  Greece 
to  fulfil  their  pledge,  and  join  him  in  his  efforts  to 
recover  his  wife.  They  generally  came  forward,  but 
Ulysses,  who  had  married  Penelope,  and  was  very  happy 
in  his  wife  and  child,  had  no  disposition  to  embark 
in  such  a  troublesome  affair.  He  therefore  hung  back 
and  Palamedes  was  sent  to  urge  him.  When  Palamedes 
arrived  at  Ithaca  Ulysses  pretended  to  be  mad.  He 
yoked  an  ass  and  an  ox  together  to  the  plough  and 
began  to  sow  salt.  Palamedes,  to  try  him,  placed  the 
infant  Telemachus  before  the  plough,  whereupon  the 
father  turned  the  plough  aside,  showing  plainly  that  he 
was  no  madman,  and  after  that  could  no  longer  refuse 
to  fulfil  his  promise.  Being  now  himself  gained  for  the 
undertaking,  he  lent  his  aid  to  bring  in  other  reluctant 
chiefs,  especially  Achilles.  This  hero  was  the  son  of 
that  Thetis  at  whose  marriage  the  apple  of  Discord  had 
been  thrown  among  the  goddesses.  Thetis  was  herself 
one  of  the  immortals,  a  sea-nymph,  and  knowing  that 
her  son  was  fated  to  perish  before  Troy  if  he  went  on 
the  expedition,  she  endeavored  to  prevent  his  going. 
She  sent  him  away  to  the  court  of  King  Lycomedes,  and 
induced  him  to  conceal  himself  in  the  disguise  of  a 
maiden  among  the  daughters  of  the  king.  Ulysses,  hear¬ 
ing  he  was  there,  went  disguised  as  a  merchant  to  the 


THE  TROJAN  WAR 


213 


palace  and  offered  for  sale  female  ornaments,  among 
which  he  had  placed  some  arms.  While  the  king’s 
daughters  were  engrossed  with  the  other  contents  of 
the  merchant’s  pack,  Achilles  handled  the  weapons  and 
thereby  betrayed  himself  to  the  keen  eye  of  Ulysses,  who 
found  no  great  difficulty  in  persuading  him  to  disre¬ 
gard  his  mother’s  prudent  counsels  and  join  his  coun¬ 
trymen  in  the  war. 

Priam  was  king  of  Troy,  and  Paris,  the  shepherd 
?md  seducer  of  Helen,  was  his  son.  Paris  had  been 
brought  up  in  obscurity,  because  there  were  certain 
ominous  forebodings  connected  with  him  from  his  in¬ 
fancy  that  he  would  be  the  ruin  of  the  state.  These 
forebodings  seemed  at  length  likely  to  be  realized,  for 
the  Grecian  armament  now  in  preparation  was  the 
greatest  that  had  ever  been  fitted  out.  Agamemnon, 
king  of  Mycense,  and  brother  of  the  injured  Menelaus, 
was  chosen  commander-in-chief.  Achilles  was  their 
most  illustrious  warrior.  After  him  ranked  Ajax,  gi¬ 
gantic  in  size  and  of  great  courage,  but  dull  of  intel¬ 
lect  ;  Diomede,  second  only  to  Achilles  in  all  the  qualities 
of  a  hero;  Ulysses,  famous  for  his  sagacity;  and  Nestor, 
the  oldest  of  the  Grecian  chiefs,  and  one  to  whom  they 
all  looked  up  for  counsel.  But  Troy  was  no  feeble 
enemy.  Priam,  the  king,  was  now  old,  but  he  had  been 
a  wise  prince  and  had  strengthened  his  state  by  good 
government  at  home  and  numerous  alliances  with  his 
neighbors.  But  the  principal  stay  and  support  of  his 
throne  was  his  son  Hector,  one  of  the  noblest  charac¬ 
ters  painted  by  heathen  antiquity.  He  felt,  from  the 
first,  a  presentiment  of  the  fall  of  his  country,  but  still 
persevered  in  his  heroic  resistance,  yet  by  no  means 
justified  the  wrong  which  brought  this  danger  upon  her. 
He  was  united  in  marriage  with  Andromache,  and  as 
a  husband  and  father  his  character  was  not  less  ad¬ 
mirable  than  as  a  warrior.  The  principal  leaders  on  the 
side  of  the  Trojans,  besides  Hector,  were  Hffieas  and 
Deiphobus,  Glaucus  and  Sarpedon. 

After  two  years  of  preparation  the  Greek  fleet  and 
army  assembled  in  the  port  of  Aulis  in  Boeotia.  Here 
Agamemnon  in  hunting  killed  a  stag  which  was  sacred 


214  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


to  Diana,  and  the  goddess  in  return  visited  the  army 
with  pestilence,  and  produced  a  calm  which  prevented 
the  ships  from  leaving  the  port.  Calchas,  the  sooth¬ 
sayer,  thereupon  announced  that  the  wrath  of  the  virgin 
goddess  could  only  be  appeased  by  the  sacrifice  of  a 
virgin  on  her  altar,  and  that  none  other  but  the  daughter 
of  the  offender  would  be  acceptable.  Agamemnon,  how¬ 
ever  reluctant,  yielded  his  consent,  and  the  maiden 
Iphigenia  was  sent  for  under  the  pretence  that  she  was 
to  be  married  to  Achilles.  When  she  was  about  to 
be  sacrificed  the  goddess  relented  and  snatched  her 
away,  leaving  a  hind  in  her  place,  and  Iphigenia,  en¬ 
veloped  in  a  cloud,  was  carried  to  Tauris,  where  Diana 
made  her  priestess  of  her  temple. 

Tennyson,  in  his  “Dream  of  Fair  Women,”  makes 
Iphigenia  thus  describe  her  feelings  at  the  moment  of 
sacrifice : 

“I  was  cut  off  from  hope  in  that  sad  place, 

Which  yet  to  name  my  spirit  loathes  and  fears; 

My  father  held  his  hand  upon  his  face; 

I,  blinded  by  my  tears, 

‘'Still  strove  to  speak;  my  voice  was  thick  with  sighs, 

As  in  a  dream.  Dimly  I  could  descry 
The  stern  black-bearded  kings,  with  wolfish  eyes, 

Waiting  to  see  me  die. 

“The  tall  masts  quivered  as  they  lay  afloat, 

The  temples  and  the  people  and  the  shore; 

One  drew  a  sharp  knife  through  my  tender  throat 
Slowly, — and — nothing  more.” 

The  wind  now  proving  fair  the  fleet  made  sail  and 
brought  the  forces  to  the  coast  of  Troy.  The  Trojans 
came  to  oppose  their  landing,  and  at  the  first  onset  Pro- 
^esilaus  fell  by  the  hand  of  Hector.  Protesilaus  had 
left  at  home  his  wife,  Laodamia,  who  was  most  ten¬ 
derly  attached  to  him.  When  the  news  of  his  death 
reached  her  she  implored  the  gods  to  be  allowed  to  con¬ 
verse  with  him  only  three  hours.  The  request  was 
granted.  Mercury  led  Protesilaus  back  to  the  upper 
world,  and  when  he  died  a  second  time  Laodamia  died 
with  him.  There  was  a  story  that  the  nymphs  planted 


“THE  ILIAD” 


215 


elm  trees  round  his  grave  which  grew  very  well  till  they 
were  high  enough  to  command  a  view  of  Troy,  and 
then  withered  away,  while  fresh  branches  sprang  from 
the  roots. 

Wordsworth  has  taken  the  story  of  Protesilaus  and 
Laodamia  for  the  subject  of  a  poem.  It  seems  the 
oracle  had  declared  that  victory  should  be  the  lot  of 
that  party  from  which  should  fall  the  first  victim  to 
the  war.  The  poet  represents  Protesilaus,  on  his  brief 
return  to  earth,  as  relating  to  Laodamia  the  story  of 
his  fate: 

“  ‘The  wished-for  wind  was  given ;  I  then  revolved 
The  oracle,  upon  the  silent  sea; 

And  if  no  worthier  led  the  way,  resolved 
That  of  a  thousand  vessels  mine  should  be 
The  foremost  prow  impressing  to  the  strand, — 

Mine  the  first  blood  that  tinged  the  Trojan  sand. 

44  ‘Yet  bitter,  ofttimes  bitter  was  the  pang 
When  of  thy  loss  I  thought,  beloved  wife! 

On  thee  too  fondly  did  my  memory  hang, 

And  on  the  joys  we  shared  in  mortal  life, 

The  paths  which  we  had  trod, — these  fountains,  flowers; 
My  new  planned  cities  and  unfinished  towers. 

“  ‘But  should  suspense  permit  the  foe  to  cry, 

“Behold  they  tremble!  haughty  their  array. 

Yet  of  their  number  no  one  dares  to  die?” 

In  soul  I  swept  the  indignity  away: 

Old  frailties  then  recurred:  but  lofty  thought 
In  act  embodied  my  deliverance  wrought/ 

•  ••••*« 

“.  .  .  upon  the  side 

Of  Hellespont  (such  faith  was  entertained) 

A  knot  of  spiry  trees  for  ages  grew 

From  out  the  tomb  of  him  for  whom  she  died; 

And  ever  when  such  stature  they  had  gained 
That  Ilium’s  walls  were  subject  to  their  view, 

The  trees’  tall  summits  withered  at  the  sight, 

A  constant  interchange  of  growth  and  blight!” 

“THE  ILIAD” 

The  war  continued  without  decisive  results  for  nine 
years.  Then  an  event  occurred  which  seemed  likely  to 
be  fatal  to  the  cause  of  the  Greeks,  and  that  was  a 


216  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


quarrel  between  Achilles  and  Agamemnon.  It  is  at  this 
point  that  the  great  poem  of  Homer,  “The  Iliad, ”  be¬ 
gins.  The  Greeks,  though  unsuccessful  against  Troy, 
had  taken  the  neighboring  and  allied  cities,  and  in  the 
division  of  the  spoil  a  female  captive,  by  name  Chry- 
seis,  daughter  of  Chryses,  priest  of  Apollo,  had  fallen 
to  the  share  of  Agamemnon.  Chryses  came  bearing  the 
sacred  emblems  of  his  office,  and  begged  the  release  of 
his  daughter.  Agamemnon  refused.  Thereupon  Chry¬ 
ses  implored  Apollo  to  afflict  the  Greeks  till  they  should 
be  forced  to  yield  their  prey.  Apollo  granted  the  prayer 
of  his  priest,  and  sent  pestilence  into  the  Grecian  camp. 
Then  a  council  was  called  to  deliberate  how  to  allay  the 
wrath  of  the  gods  and  avert  the  plague.  Achilles  boldly 
charged  their  misfortunes  upon  Agamemnon  as  caused 
by  his  withholding  Chryseis.  Agamemnon,  enraged, 
consented  to  relinquish  his  captive,  but  demanded  that 
Achilles  should  yield  to  him  in  her  stead  Briseis,  a 
maiden  who  had  fallen  to  Achilles’  share  in  the  division 
of  the  spoil.  Achilles  submitted,  but  forthwith  declared 
that  he  would  take  no  further  part  in  the  war.  He 
withdrew  his  forces  from  the  general  camp  and  openly 
avowed  his  intention  of  returning  home  to  Greece. 

The  gods  and  goddesses  interested  themselves  as  much 
in  this  famous  war  as  the  parties  themselves.  It  was 
well  known  to  them  that  fate  had  decreed  that  Troy 
should  fall,  at  last,  if  her  enemies  should  persevere  and 
not  voluntarily  abandon  the  enterprise.  Yet  there  was 
room  enough  left  for  chance  to  excite  by  turns  the  hopes 
and  fears  of  the  powers  above  who  took  part  with 
either  side.  Juno  and  Minerva,  in  consequence  of  the 
slight  put  upon  their  charms  by  Paris,  were  hostile  to 
the  Trojans;  Venus  for  the  opposite  cause  favored 
them.  Venus  enlisted  her  admirer  Mars  on  the  same 
side,  but  Neptune  favored  the  Greeks.  Apollo  was 
neutral,  sometimes  taking  one  side,  sometimes  the  other, 
and  Jove  himself,  though  he  loved  the  good  King  Priam, 
yet  exercised  a  degree  of  impartiality;  not,  however, 
without  exceptions. 

Thetis,  the  mother  of  Achilles,  warmly  resented  the 
injury  done  to  her  son.  She  repaired  immediately  to 


“THE  ILIAD” 


217 


Jove’s  palace  and  besought  him  to  make  the  Greeks  re¬ 
pent  of  their  injustice  to  Achilles  by  granting  success 
to  the  Trojan  arms.  Jupiter  consented,  and  in  the  bat¬ 
tle  which  ensued  the  Trojans  were  completely  success¬ 
ful.  The  Greeks  were  driven  from  the  field  and  took 
refuge  in  their  ships. 

Then  Agamemnon  called  a  council  of  his  wisest  and 
bravest  chiefs.  Nestor  advised  that  an  embassy  should 
be  sent  to  Achilles  to  persuade  him  to  return  to  the 
field;  that  Agamemnon  should  yield  the  maiden,  the 
cause  of  the  dispute,  with  ample  gifts  to  atone  for  the 
wrong  he  had  done.  Agamemnon  consented,  and 
Ulysses,  Ajax,  and  Phoenix  were  sent  to  carry  to 
Achilles  the  penitent  message.  They  performed  that 
duty,  but  Achilles  was  deaf  to  their  entreaties.  He 
positively  refused  to  return  to  the  field,  and  persisted 
in  his  resolution  to  embark  for  Greece  without  delay. 

The  Greeks  had  constructed  a  rampart  around  their 
ships,  and  now  instead  of  besieging  Troy  they  were  in 
a  manner  besieged  themselves,  within  their  rampart. 
The  next  day  after  the  unsuccessful  embassy  to  Achil¬ 
les,  a  battle  was  fought,  and  the  Trojans,  favored  by 
Jove,  were  successful,  and  succeeded  in  forcing  a  pas¬ 
sage  through  the  Grecian  rampart,  and  were  about  to 
set  fire  to  the  ships.  Neptune,  seeing  the  Greeks  so 
pressed,  came  to  their  rescue.  He  appeared  in  the  form 
of  Calchas  the  prophet,  encouraged  the  warriors  with 
his  shouts,  and  appealed  to  each  individually  till  he 
raised  their  ardor  to  such  a  pitch  that  they  forced  the 
Trojans  to'  give  way.  Ajax  performed  prodigies  of 
valor,  and  at  length  encountered  Hector.  Ajax  shouted 
defiance,  to  which  Hector  replied,  and  hurled  his  lance 
at  the  huge  warrior.  It  was  well  aimed  and  struck 
Ajax,  where  the  belts  that  bore  his  sword  and  shield 
crossed  each  other  on  the  breast.  The  double  guard 
prevented  its  penetrating  and  it  fell  harmless.  Then 
Ajax,  seizing  a  huge  stone,  one  of  those  that  served  to 
prop  the  ships,  hurled  it  at  Hector.  It  struck  him  in 
the  neck  and  stretched  him  on  the  plain.  His  followers 
instantly  seized  him  and  bore  him  off,  stunned  and 
wounded. 


213  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


While  Neptune  was  thus  aiding  the  Greeks  and  driv¬ 
ing  back  the  Trojans,  Jupiter  saw  nothing  of  what  was 
going  on,  for  his  attention  had  been  drawn  from  the 
field  by  the  wiles  of  Juno.  That  goddess  had  arrayed 
herself  in  all  her  charms,  and  to  crown  all  had  bor¬ 
rowed  of  Venus  her  girdle,  called  “Cestus,”  which  had 
the  effect  to  heighten  the  wearer’s  charms  to  such  a  de¬ 
gree  that  they  were  quite  irresistible.  So  prepared,  Juno 
went  to  join  her  husband,  who  sat  on  Olympus  watch¬ 
ing  the  battle.  When  he  beheld  her  she  looked  so  charm¬ 
ing  that  the  fondness  of  his  early  love  revived,  and, 
forgetting  the  contending  armies  and  all  other  affairs  of 
state,  he  thought  only  of  her  and  let  the  battle  go  as 
it  would. 

But  this  absorption  did  not  continue  long,  and  when, 
upon  turning  his  eyes  downward,  he  beheld  Hector 
stretched  on  the  plain  almost  lifeless  from  pain  and 
bruises,  he  dismissed  Juno  in  a  rage,  commanding  her 
to  send  Iris  and  Apollo  to  him.  When  Iris  came  he 
sent  her  with  a  stern  message  to  Neptune,  ordering  him 
instantly  to  quit  the  field.  Apollo  was  despatched  to 
heal  Hector’s  bruises  and  to  inspirit  his  heart.  These 
orders  were  obeyed  with  such  speed  that,  while  the  bat¬ 
tle  still  raged,  Hector  returned  to  the  field  and  Neptune 
betook  himself  to  his  own  dominions. 

An  arrow  from  Paris’s  bow  wounded  Machaon,  son 
of  ^Esculapius,  who  inherited  his  father’s  art  of  heal¬ 
ing,  and  was  therefore  of  great  value  to  the  Greeks  as 
their  surgeon,  besides  being  one  of  their  bravest  war¬ 
riors.  Nestor  took  Machaon  in  his  chariot  and  conveyed 
him  from  the  field.  As  they  passed  the  ships  of  Achil¬ 
les,  that  hero,  looking  out  over  the  field,  saw  the  chariot 
of  Nestor  and  recognized  the  old  chief,  but  could  not 
discern  who  the  wounded  chief  was.  So  calling  Patro- 
clus,  his  companion  and  dearest  friend,  he  sent  him  to 
Nestor’s  tent  to  inquire. 

Patroclus,  arriving  at  Nestor’s  tent,  saw  Machaon 
wounded,  and  having  told  the  cause  of  his  coming  would 
have  hastened  away,  but  Nestor  detained  him,  to  tell 
him  the  extent  of  the  Grecian  calamities.  He  reminded 
him  also  how,  at  the  time  of  departing  for  Troy,  Achilles 


“THE  ILIAD” 


219 


and  himself  had  been  charged  by  their  respective  fathers 
with  different  advice :  Achilles  to  aspire  to  the  highest 
pitch  of  glory,  Patroclus,  as  the  elder,  to  keep  watch 
over  his  friend,  and  to  guide  his  inexperience.  “Now,” 
said  Nestor,  “is  the  time  for  such  influence.  If  the 
gods  so  please,  thou  mayest  win  him  back  to  the  com 
mon  cause;  but  if  not  let  him  at  least  send  his  soldiers 
to  the  field,  and  come  thou,  Patroclus,  clad  in  his  armor, 
and  perhaps  the  very  sight  of  it  may  drive  back  the 
Trojans.” 

Patroclus  was  strongly  moved  with  this  address,  and 
hastened  back  to  Achilles,  revolving  in  his  mind  all  he 
had  seen  and  heard.  He  told  the  prince  the  sad  con¬ 
dition  of  affairs  at  the  camp  of  their  late  associates: 
Diomede,  Ulysses,  Agamemnon,  Machaon,  all  wounded, 
the  rampart  broken  down,  the  enemy  among  the  ships 
preparing  to  burn  them,  and  thus  to  cut  off  all  means 
of  return  to  Greece.  While  they  spoke  the  flames  burst 
forth  from  one  of  the  ships.  Achilles,  at  the  sight,  re¬ 
lented  so  far  as  to  grant  Patroclus  his  request  to  lead 
the  Myrmidons  (for  so  were  Achilles’  soldiers  called) 
to  the  field,  and  to  lend  him  his  armor,  that  he  might 
thereby  strike  more  terror  into  the  minds  of  the  Tro¬ 
jans.  Without  delay  the  soldiers  were  marshalled, 
Patroclus  put  on  the  radiant  armor  and  mounted  the 
chariot  of  Achilles,  and  led  forth  the  men  ardent  for 
battle.  But  before  he  went,  Achilles  strictly  charged 
him  that  he  should  be  content  with  repelling  the  foe. 
“Seek  not,”  said  he,  “to  press  the  Trojans  without  me, 
lest  thou  add  still  more  to  the  disgrace  already  mine.” 
Then  exhorting  the  troops  to  do  their  best  he  dismissed 
them  full  of  ardor  to  the  fight. 

Patroclus  and  his  Myrmidons  at  once  plunged  into 
the  contest  where  it  raged  hottest;  at  the  sight  of  which 
the  joyful  Grecians  shouted  and  the  ships  reechoed  the 
acclaim.  The  Trojans,  at  the  sight  of  the  well-known 
armor,  struck  with  terror,  looked  everywhere  for  refuge. 
First  those  who  had  got  possession  of  the  ship  and  set 
it  on  fire  left  and  allowed  the  Grecians  to  retake  it  and 
extinguish  the  flames.  Then  the  rest  of  the  Trojans  fled 
in  dismay.  Ajax,  Menelaus,  and  the  two  sons  of  Nestor 


220  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


performed  prodigies  of  valor.  Hector  was  forced  to 
turn  his  horses’  heads  and  retire  from  the  enclosure, 
leaving  his  men  entangled  in  the  fosse  to  escape  as  they 
could.  Patroclus  drove  them  before  him,  slaying  many, 
none  daring  to  make  a  stand  against  him. 

At  last  Sarpedon,  son  of  Jove,  ventured  to  oppose 
himself  in  fight  to  Patroclus.  Jupiter  looked  down  upon 
him  and  would  have  snatched  him  from  the  fate  which 
awaited  him,  but  Juno  hinted  that  if  he  did  so  it  would 
induce  all  others  of  the  inhabitants  of  heaven  to  inter¬ 
pose  in  like  manner  whenever  any  of  their  offspring 
were  endangered;  to  which  reason  Jove  yielded.  Sarpe¬ 
don  threw  his  spear,  but  missed  Patroclus,  but  Patroclus 
threw  his  with  better  success.  It  pierced  Sarpedon’s 
breast  and  he  fell,  and,  calling  to  his  friends  to  save 
his  body  from  the  foe,  expired.  Then  a  furious  con¬ 
test  arose  for  the  possession  of  the  corpse.  The  Greeks 
succeeded  and  stripped  Sarpedon  of  his  armor;  but  Jove 
would  not  allow  the  remains  of  his  son  to  be  dishonored, 
and  by  his  command  Apollo  snatched  from  the  midst  of 
the  combatants  the  body  of  Sarpedon  and  committed  it 
to  the  care  of  the  twin  brothers  Death  and  Sleep,  by 
whom  it  was  transported  to  Lycia,  the  native  land  of 
Sarpedon,  where  it  received  due  funeral  rites. 

Thus  far  Patroclus  had  succeeded  to  his  utmost  wish 
in  repelling  the  Trojans  and  relieving  his  countrymen, 
but  now  came  a  change  of  fortune.  Hector,  borne  in 
his  chariot,  confronted  him.  Patroclus  threw  a  vast 
stone  at  Hector,  which  missed  its  aim,  but  smote  Ce- 
briones,  the  charioteer,  and  knocked  him  from  the 
car.  Hector  leaped  from  the  chariot  to  rescue  his 
friend,  and  Patroclus  also  descended  to  complete  his 
victory.  Thus  the  two  heroes  met  face  to  face.  At 
this  decisive  moment  the  poet,  as  if  reluctant  to  give 
Hector  the  glory,  records  that  Phoebus  took  part  against 
Patroclus.  He  struck  the  helmet  from  his  head  and  the 
lance  from  his  hand.  At  the  same  moment  an  obscure 
Trojan  wounded  him  in  the  back,  and  Hector,  press¬ 
ing  forward,  pierced  him  with  his  spear.  He  fell  mor¬ 
tally  wounded. 

Then  arose  a  tremendous  conflict  for  the  body  of 


‘THE  ILIAD” 


221 


Patroclus,  but  his  armor  was  at  once  taken  possession 
of  by  Hector,  who  retiring  a  short  distance  divested 
himself  of  his  own  armor  and  put  on  that  of  Achilles, 
then  returned  to  the  fight.  Ajax  and  Menelaus  de¬ 
fended  the  body,  and  Hector  and  his  bravest  warriors 
struggled  to  capture  it.  The  battle  raged  with  equal 
fortunes,  when  Jove  enveloped  the  whole  face  of  heaven 
with  a  dark  cloud.  The  lightning  flashed,  the  thunder 
roared,  and  Ajax,  looking  round  for  some  one  whom 
he  might  despatch  to  Achilles  to  tell  him  of  the  death 
of  his  friend,  and  of  the  imminent  danger  that  his  re¬ 
mains  would  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  could 
see  no  suitable  messenger.  It  was  then  that  he  ex¬ 
claimed  in  those  famous  lines  so  often  quoted, 

“Father  of  heaven  and  earth !  deliver  thou 
Achaia’s  host  from  darkness;  clear  the  skies; 

Give  day;  and,  since  thy  sovereign  will  is  such, 
Destruction  with  it;  but,  O,  give  us  day.” 

— Cowper, 

Or,  as  rendered  by  Pope, 

.  .  Lord  of  earth  and  air! 

O  king!  O  father!  hear  my  humble  prayer! 

Dispel  this  cloud,  the  light  of  heaven  restore; 

Give  me  to  see  and  Ajax  asks  no  more; 

If  Greece  must  perish  we  thy  will  obey, 

But  let  us  perish  in  the  face  of  day.” 

Jupiter  heard  the  prayer  and  dispersed  the  /clouds. 
Then  Ajax  sent  Antilochus  to  Achilles  with  the  intelli¬ 
gence  of  Patroclus’s  death,  and  of  the  conflict  raging 
for  his  remains.  The  Greeks  at  last  succeeded  in  bear¬ 
ing  off  the  body  to  the  ships,  closely  pursued  by  Hector 
and  Tmeas  and  the  rest  of  the  Trojans. 

Achilles  heard  the  fate  of  his  friend  with  such  dis¬ 
tress  that  Antilochus  feared  for  a  while  that  he  would 
destroy  himself.  His  groans  reached  the  ears  of  his 
mother,  Thetis,  far  down  in  the  deeps  of  ocean  where 
she  abode,  and  she  hastened  to  him  to  inquire  the  cause. 
She  found  him  overwhelmed  with  self-reproach  that 
he  had  indulged  his  resentment  so  far,  and  suffered  his 
friend  to  fall  a  victim  to  it.  But  his  only  consolation 


222  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


was  the  hope  of  revenge.  He  would  fly  instantly  in 
search  of  Hector.  But  his  mother  reminded  him  that 
he  was  now  without  armor,  and  promised  him,  if  he 
would  but  wait  till  the  morrow,  she  would  procure  for 
him  a  suit  of  armor  from  Vulcan  more  than  equal  tc 
that  he  had  lost.  He  consented,  and  Thetis  immediately 
repaired  to  Vulcan’s  palace.  She  found  him  busy  at 
his  forge  making  tripods  for  his  own  use,  so  artfully 
constructed  that  they  moved  forward  of  their  own  ac¬ 
cord  when  wanted,  and  retired  again  when  dismissed. 
On  hearing  the  request  of  Thetis,  Vulcan  immediately 
laid  aside  his  work  and  hastened  to  comply  with  her 
wishes.  He  fabricated  a  splendid  suit  of  armor  for 
Achilles,  first  a  shield  adorned  with  elaborate  devices, 
then  a  helmet  crested  with  gold,  then  a  corselet  and 
greaves  of  impenetrable  temper,  all  perfectly  adapted 
to  his  form,  and  of  consummate  workmanship.  It  was 
all  done  in  one  night,  and  Thetis,  receiving  it,  descended 
with  it  to  earth,  and  laid  it  down  at  Achilles’  feet  at  the 
dawn  of  day. 

The  first  glow  of  pleasure  that  Achilles  had  felt  since 
the  death  of  Patroclus  was  at  the  sight  of  this  splendid 
armor.  And  now,  arrayed  in  it,  he  went  forth  into  the 
camp,  calling  all  the  chiefs  to  council.  When  they  were 
all  assembled  he  addressed  them.  Renouncing  his  dis¬ 
pleasure  against  Agamemnon  and  bitterly  lamenting  the 
miseries  that  had  resulted  from  it,  he  called  on  them  to 
proceed  at  once  to  the  field.  Agamemnon  made  a  suit¬ 
able  reply,  laying  all  the  blame  on  Ate,  the  goddess  of 
discord;  and  thereupon  complete  reconcilement  took 
place  between  the  heroes. 

Then  Achilles  went  forth  to  battle  inspired  with  a 
rage  and  thirst  for  vengeance  that  made  him  irresistible. 
The  bravest  warriors  fled  before  him  or  fell  by  his 
2ance.  Hector,  cautioned  by  Apollo,  kept  aloof ;  but 
the  god,  assuming  the  form  of  one  of  Priam’s  sons, 
Lycaon,  urged  iEneas  to  encounter  the  terrible  war¬ 
rior.  ^Eneas,  though  he  felt  himself  unequal,  did  not 
decline  the  combat.  He  hurled  his  spear  with  all  his 
force  against  the  shield  the  work  of  Vulcan.  It  was 
formed  of  five  metal  plates;  two  were  of  brass,  two 


“THE  ILIAD” 


223 


of  tin,  and  one  of  gold.  The  spear  pierced  two  thick¬ 
nesses,  but  was  stopped  in  the  third.  Achilles  threw  his 
with  better  success.  It  pierced  through  the  shield  of 
/Eneas,  but  glanced  near  his  shoulder  and  made  no 
wound.  Then  ^Eneas  seized  a  stone,  such  as  two  men 
of  modern  times  could  hardly  lift,  and  was  about  to 
throw  it,  and  Achilles,  with  sword  drawn,  was  about 
to  rush  upon  him,  when  Neptune,  who  looked  out  upon 
the  contest,  moved  with  pity  for  y£neas,  who  he  saw 
would  surely  fall  a  victim  if  not  speedily  rescued,  spread 
a  cloud  between  the  combatants,  and  lifting  /Eneas  from 
the  ground,  bore  him  over  the  heads  of  warriors  and 
steeds  to  the  rear  of  the  battle.  Achilles,  when  the 
mist  cleared  away,  looked  round  in  vain  for  his  ad¬ 
versary,  and  acknowledging  the  prodigy,  turned  his  arms 
against  other  champions.  But  none  dared  stand  before 
him,  and  Priam  looking  down  from  the  city  walls  be¬ 
held  his  whole  army  in  full  flight  towards  the  city.  He 
gave  command  to  open  wide  the  gates  to  receive  the 
fugitives,  and  to  shut  them  as  soon  as  the  Trojans 
should  have  passed,  lest  the  enemy  should  enter  like¬ 
wise.  But  Achilles  was  so  close  in  pursuit  that  that 
would  have  been  impossible  if  Apollo  had  not,  in  the 
form  of  Agenor,  Priam’s  son,  encountered  Achilles  for 
a  while,  then  turned  to  fly,  and  taken  the  way  apart 
from  the  city.  Achilles  pursued  and  had  chased  his 
supposed  victim  far  from  the  walls,  when  Apollo  dis¬ 
closed  himself,  and  Achilles,  perceiving  how  he  had  been 
deluded,  gave  up  the  chase. 

But  when  the  rest  had  escaped  into  the  town  Hector 
stood  without  determined  to  await  the  combat.  His 
old  father  called  to  him  from  the  walls  and  begged  him 
to  retire  nor  tempt  the  encounter.  His  mother,  Hecuba, 
also  besought  him  to  the  same  effect,  but  all  in  vain. 
“How  can  I,”  said  he  to  himself,  “by  whose  command 
the  people  went  to  this  day’s  contest,  where  so  many 
have  fallen,  seek  safety  for  myself  against  a  single  foe? 
But  what  if  I  offer  him  to  yield  up  Helen  and  all  her 
treasures  and  ample  of  our  own  beside  ?  Ah,  no !  it  is 
too  late.  He  would  not  even  hear  me  through,  but  slay 
me  while  I  spoke.”  While  he  thus  ruminated.  Achilles 


224  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


approached,  terrible  as  Mars,  his  armor  flashing  light¬ 
ning  as  he  moved.  At  that  sight  Hector’s  heart  failed 
him  and  he  fled.  Achilles  swiftly  pursued.  They  ran, 
still  keeping  near  the  walls,  till  they  had  thrice  encircled 
the  city.  As  often  as  Hector  approached  the  walls 
Achilles  intercepted  him  and  forced  him  to  keep  out  in 
a  wider  circle.  But  Apollo  sustained  Hector’s  strength 
and  would  not  let  him  sink  in  weariness.  Then  Pallas, 
assuming  the  form  of  Deiphobus,  Hector’s  bravest 
brother,  appeared  suddenly  at  his  side.  Hector  saw  him 
with  delight,  and  thus  strengthened  stopped  his  flight 
and  turned  to  meet  Achilles.  Hector  threw  his  spear, 
which  struck  the  shield  of  Achilles  and  bounded  back. 
He  turned  to  receive  another  from  the  hand  of  Deipho¬ 
bus,  but  Deiphobus  was  gone.  Then  Hector  understood 
his  doom  and  said,  “Alas !  it  is  plain  this  is  my  hour 
to  die !  I  thought  Deiphobus  at  hand,  but  Pallas  de¬ 
ceived  me,  and  he  is  still  in  Troy.  But  I  will  not  fall 
inglorious.”  So  saying  he  drew  his  falchion  from  his 
side  and  rushed  at  once  to  combat.  Achilles,  secured 
behind  his  shield,  waited  the  approach  of  Hector.  When 
he  came  within  reach  of  his  spear,  Achilles  choosing 
with  his  eye  a  vulnerable  part  where  the  armor  leaves 
the  neck  uncovered,  aimed  his  spear  at  that  part  and 
Hector  fell,  death-wounded,  and  feebly  said,  “Spare  my 
body !  Let  my  parents  ransom  it,  and  let  me  receive 
funeral  rites  from  the  sons  and  daughters  of  Troy.”  To 
which  Achilles  replied,  “Dog,  name  not  ransom  nor  pity 
to  me,  on  whom  you  have  brought  such  dire  distress. 
No !  trust  me,  naught  shall  save  thy  carcass  from  the 
dogs.  Though  twenty  ransoms  and  thy  weight  in  gold 
were  offered,  I  would  refuse  it  all.” 

So  saying  he  stripped  the  body  of  its  armor,  and 
fastening  cords  to  the  feet  tied  them  behind  his  chariot, 
leaving  the  body  to  trail  along  the  ground.  Then  mount¬ 
ing  the  chariot  he  lashed  the  steeds  and  so  dragged  the 
body  to  and  fro  before  the  city.  What  words  can  tell 
the  grief  of  King  Priam  and  Queen  Hecuba  at  this 
sight!  His  people  could  scarce  restrain  the  old  king 
from  rushing  forth.  He  threw  himself  in  the  dust  and 
besought  them  each  by  name  to  give  him  way.  Hec- 


“THE  ILIAD” 


225 


ttba’s  distress  was  not  less  violent.  The  citizens  stood 
round  them  weeping.  The  sound  of  the  mourning 
reached  the  ears  of  Andromache,  the  wife  of  Hector, 
as  she  sat  among  her  maidens  at  work,  and  anticipating 
evil  she  went  forth  to  the  wall.  When  she  saw  the 
sight  there  presented,  she  would  have  thrown  herself 
headlong  from  the  wall,  but  fainted  and  fell  into  the 
arms  of  her  maidens.  Recovering,  she  bewailed  her 
fate,  picturing  to  herself  her  country  ruined,  herself  a 
captive,  and  her  son  dependent  for  his  bread  on  the 
charity  of  strangers. 

When  Achilles  and  the  Greeks  had  taken  their  re¬ 
venge  on  the  killer  of  Patroclus  they  busied  themselves 
in  paying  due  funeral  rites  to  their  friend.  A  pile  was 
erected,  and  the  body  burned  with  due  solemnity;  and 
then  ensued  games  of  strength  and  skill,  chariot  races, 
wrestling,  boxing,  and  archery.  Then  the  chiefs  sat 
down  to  the  funeral  banquet  and  after  that  retired  to 
rest.  But  Achilles  neither  partook  of  the  feast  nor  of 
sleep.  The  recollection  of  his  lost  friend  kept  him 
awake,  remembering  their  companionship  in  toil  and 
dangers,  in  battle  or  on  the  perilous  deep.  Before  the 
earliest  dawn  he  left  his  tent,  and  joining  to  his  chariot 
his  swift  steeds,  he  fastened  Hector’s  body  to  be  dragged 
behind.  Twice  he  dragged  him  around  the  tomb  of 
Patroclus,  leaving  him  at  length  stretched  in  the  dust. 
But  Apollo  would  not  permit  the  body  to  be  torn  or 
disfigured  with  all  this  abuse,  but  preserved  it  free  from 
all  taint  or  defilement. 

While  Achilles  indulged  his  wrath  in  thus  disgracing 
brave  Hector,  Jupiter  in  pity  summoned  Thetis  to  his 
presence.  He  told  her  to  go  to  her  son  and  prevail  on 
him  to  restore  the  body  of  Hector  to  his  friends.  Then 
Jupiter  sent  Iris  to  King  Priam  to  encourage  him  to  go 
to  Achilles  and  beg  the  body  of  his  son.  Iris  delivered 
her  message,  and  Priam  immediately  prepared  to  obey. 
He  opened  his  treasuries  and  took  out  rich  garments  and 
cloths,  with  ten  talents  in  gold  and  two  splendid  tripods 
and  a  golden  cup  of  matchless  workmanship.  Then  he 
called  to  his  sons  and  bade  them  draw  forth  his  litter 
and  place  in  it  the  various  articles  designed  for  a  ransom 


226  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


to  Achilles.  When  all  was  ready,  the  old  king  with  a 
single  companion  as  aged  as  himself,  the  herald  Idseus, 
drove  forth  from  the  gates,  parting  there  with  Hecuba, 
his  queen,  and  all  his  friends,  who  lamented  him  as 
going  to  certain  death. 

But  Jupiter,  beholding  with  compassion  the  venerable 
king,  sent  Mercury  to  be  his  guide  and  protector.  Mer¬ 
cury,  assuming  the  form  of  a  young  warrior,  presented 
himself  to  the  aged  couple,  and  while  at  the  sight  of  him 
they  hesitated  whether  to  fly  or  yield,  the  god  ap¬ 
proached,  and  grasping  Priam’s  hand  offered  to  be  their 
guide  to  Achilles’  tent.  Priam  gladly  accepted  his 
offered  service,  and  he,  mounting  the  carriage,  assumed 
the  reins  and  soon  conveyed  them  to  the  tent  of  Achilles. 
Mercury’s  wand  put  to  sleep  all  the  guards,  and  without 
hinderance  he  introduced  Priam  into  the  tent  where 
Achilles  sat,  attended  by  two  of  his  warriors.  The  old 
king  threw  himself  at  the  feet  of  Achilles,  and  kissed 
those  terrible  hands  which  had  destroyed  so  many  of  his 
sons.  “Think,  O  Achilles,”  he  said,  “of  thy  own  father, 
full  of  days  like  me,  and  trembling  on  the  gloomy  verge 
of  life.  Perhaps  even  now  some  neighbor  chief  op¬ 
presses  him  and  there  is  none  at  hand  to  succor  him  in 
his  distress.  Yet  doubtless  knowing  that  Achilles  lives  he 
still  rejoices,  hoping  that  one  day  he  shall  see  thy  face 
again.  But  no  comfort  cheers  me,  whose  bravest  sons,  so 
late  the  flower  of  Ilium,  all  have  fallen.  Yet  one  I  had, 
one  more  than  all  the  rest  the  strength  of  my  age,  whom, 
fighting  for  his  country,  thou  hast  slain.  I  come  to 
redeem  his  body,  bringing  inestimable  ransom  with  me. 
Achilles !  reverence  the  gods !  recollect  thy  father !  for 
his  sake  show  compassion  to  me !”  These  words  moved 
Achilles,  and  he  wept ;  remembering  by  turns  his  absent 
father  and  his  lost  friend.  Moved  with  pity  of  Priam’s 
silver  locks  and  beard,  he  raised  him  from  the  earth, 
and  thus  spake :  “Priam,  I  know  that  thou  hast  reached 
this  place  conducted  by  some  god,  for  without  aid  divine 
no  mortal  even  in  his  prime  of  youth  had  dared  the 
attempt.  I  grant  thy  request,  moved  thereto  by  the 
evident  will  of  Jove.”  So  saying  he  arose,  and  went 
forth  with  his  two  friends,  and  unloaded  of  its  charge 


THE  FALL  OF  TROY 


227 


the  litter,  leaving  two  mantles  and  a  robe  for  the  cover¬ 
ing  of  the  body,  which  they  placed  on  the  litter,  and 
spread  the  garments  over  it,  that  not  unveiled  it  should 
be  borne  back  to  Troy.  Then  Achilles  dismissed  the  old 
king  with  his  attendants,  having  first  pledged  himself  to 
allow  a  truce  of  twelve  days  for  the  funeral  solemnities. 

As  the  litter  approached  the  city  and  was  descried  from 
the  walls,  the  people  poured  forth  to  gaze  once  more  on 
the  face  of  their  hero.  Foremost  of  all,  the  mother  and 
the  wife  of  Hector  came,  and  at  the  sight  of  the  lifeless 
body  renewed  their  lamentations.  The  people  all  wept 
with  them,  and  to  the  going  down  of  the  sun  there  was 
no  pause  or  abatement  of  their  grief. 

The  next  day  preparations  were  made  for  the  funeral 
solemnities.  For  nine  days  the  people  brought  wood 
and  built  the  pile,  and  on  the  tenth  they  placed  the  body 
on  the  summit  and  applied  the  torch;  while  all  Troy 
thronging  forth  encompassed  the  pile.  When  it  had 
completely  burned,  they  quenched  the  cinders  with  wine, 
collected  the  bones  and  placed  them  in  a  golden  urn, 
which  they  buried  in  the  earth,  and  reared  a  pile  of 
stones  over  the  spot. 

“Such  honors  Ilium  to  her  hero  paid, 

And  peaceful  slept  the  mighty  Hector’s  shade.” 

— Pope. 


'  CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE  FALL  OF  TROY — RETURN  OF  THE  GREEKS — ORESTES 

AND  ELECTRA 

THE  FALL  OF  TROY 

The  story  of  the  Iliad  ends  with  the  death  of  Hec¬ 
tor,  and  it  is  from  the  Odyssey  and  later  poems  that 
we  learn  the  fate  of  the  other  heroes.  After  the  death 
of  Hector,  Troy  did  not  immediately  fall,  but  receiv¬ 
ing  aid  from  new  allies  still  continued  its  resistance. 
One  of  these  allies  was  Memnon,  the  ^Ethiopian  prince, 


228  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


whose  story  we  have  already  told.  Another  was  Pen- 
thesilea,  queen  of  the  Amazons,  who  came  with  a  band 
of  female  warriors.  All  the  authorities  attest  their  valor 
and  the  fearful  effect  of  their  war  cry.  Penthesilea 
slew  manv  of  the  bravest  warriors,  but  was  at  last  slain 
by  Achilles.  But  when  the  hero  bent  over  his  fallen 
foe,  and  contemplated  her  beauty,  youth,  and  valor,  he 
bitterly  regretted  his  victory.  Thersites,  an  insolent 
brawler  and  demagogue,  ridiculed  his  grief,  and  was  in 
consequence  slain  by  the  hero. 

Achilles  by  chance  had  seen  Polyxena,  daughter  of 
King  Priam,  perhaps  on  the  occasion  of  the  truce  which 
was  allowed  the  Trojans  for  the  burial  of  Hector.  He 
was  captivated  with  her  charms,  and  to  win  her  in  mar¬ 
riage  agreed  to  use  his  influence  with  the  Greeks  to 
grant  peace  to  Troy.  While  in  the  temple  of  Apollo, 
negotiating  the  marriage,  Paris  discharged  at  him  a 
poisoned  arrow,  which,  guided  by  Apollo,  wounded 
Achilles  in  the  heel,  the  only  vulnerable  part  about  him. 
For  Thetis  his  mother  had  dipped  him  when  an  infant 
in  the  river  Styx,  which  made  every  part  of  him  invul¬ 
nerable  except  the  heel  by  which  she  held  him.1 

The  body  of  Achilles  so  treacherously  slain  was 
rescued  by  Ajax  and  Ulysses.  Thetis  directed  the 
Greeks  to  bestow  her  son’s  armor  on  the  hero  who  of 
all  the  survivors  should  be  judged  most  deserving  of  it. 
Ajax  and  Ulysses  were  the  only  claimants;  a  select 
number  of  the  other  chiefs  were  appointed  to  award 
the  prize.  It  was  awarded  to  Ulysses,  thus  placing  wis¬ 
dom  before  valor;  whereupon  Ajax  slew  himself.  On 
the  spot  where  his  blood  sank  into  the  earth  a  flower 
sprang  up,  called  the  hyacinth,  bearing  on  its  leaves  the 
first  two  letters  of  the  name  of  Ajax,  Ai,  the  Greek 
for  “woe.”  Thus  Ajax  is  a  claimant  with  the  boy 
Hyacinthus  for  the  honor  of  giving  birth  to  this  flower. 
There  is  a  species  of  Larkspur  which  represents  the 
hyacinth  of  the  poets  in  preserving  the  memory  of  this 
event,  the  Delphinium  Ajacis — Ajax’s  Larkspur. 


1  The  story  of  the  invulnerability  of  Achilles  is  not  found  in  Homer, 
and  is  inconsistent  with  his  account.  For  how  could  Achilles  require  the 
aid  of  celestial  armor  if  he  were  invulnerable? 


THE  FALL  OF  TROY 


229 


It  was  now  discovered  that  Troy  could  not  be  taken 
but  by  the  aid  of  the  arrows  of  Hercules.  They  were 
in  possession  of  Philoctetes,  the  friend  who  had  been 
with  Hercules  at  the  last  and  lighted  his  funeral  pyre. 
Philoctetes  had  joined  the  Grecian  expedition  against 
Troy,  but  had  accidentally  wounded  his  foot  with  one 
of  the  poisoned  arrows,  and  the  smell  from  his  wound 
proved  so  offensive  that  his  companions  carried  him  to 
the  isle  of  Lemnos  and  left  him  there.  Diomed  was 
now  sent  to  induce  him  to  rejoin  the  army.  He  suc¬ 
ceeded.  Philoctetes  was  cured  of  his  wound  by  Ma- 
chaon,  and  Paris  was  the  first  victim  of  the  fatal  arrows. 
In  his  distress  Paris  bethought  him  of  one  whom  in 
his  prosperity  he  had  forgotten.  This  was  the  nymph 
QEnone,  whom  he  had  married  when  a  youth,  and  had 
abandoned  for  the  fatal  beauty  Helen.  CEnone,  remem¬ 
bering  the  wrongs  she  had  suffered,  refused  to  heal  the 
wound,  and  Paris  went  back  to  Troy  and  died.  CEnone 
quickly  repented,  and  hastened  after  him  with  remedies, 
but  came  too  late,  and  in  her  grief  hung  herself. 1 

There  was  in  Troy  a  celebrated  statue  of  Minerva 
called  the  Palladium.  It  was  said  to  have  fallen  from 
heaven,  and  the  belief  was  that  the  city  could  not  be 
taken  so  long  as  this  statue  remained  within  it.  Ulysses 
and  Diomed  entered  the  city  in  disguise  and  succeeded 
in  obtaining  the  Palladium,  which  they  carried  off  to  the 
Grecian  camp. 

But  Troy  still  held  out,  and  the  Greeks  began  to 
despair  of  ever  subduing  it  by  force,  and  by  advice  of 
Ulysses  resolved  to  resort  to  stratagem.  They  pre¬ 
tended  to  be  making  preparations  to  abandon  the  siege, 
and  a  portion  of  the  ships  were  withdrawn  and  lay  hid 
behind  a  neighboring  island.  The  Greeks  then  con¬ 
structed  an  immense  wooden  horse,  which  they  gave  out 
was  intended  as  a  propitiatory  offering  to  Minerva,  but  in 
fact  was  filled  with  armed  men.  The  remaining  Greeks 
then  betook  themselves  to  their  ships  and  sailed  away, 
as  if  for  a  final  departure.  The  Trojans,  seeing  the  en- 


1  Tennyson  has  chosen  CEnone  as  the  subject  of  a  short  poem;  but  he 
has  omitted  the  most  poetical  part  of  the  story,  the  return  of  Paris 
wounded,  her  cruelty  and  subsequent  repentance. 


230  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


campment  broken  up  and  the  fleet  gone,  concluded  the 
enemy  to  have  abandoned  the  siege.  The  gates  were 
thrown  open,  and  the  whole  population  issued  forth 
rejoicing  at  the  long-prohibited  liberty  of  passing  freely 
over  the  scene  of  the  late  encampment.  The  great 
horse  was  the  chief  object  of  curiosity.  All  wondered 
what  it  could  be  for.  Some  recommended  to  take  it 
into  the  city  as  a  trophy;  others  felt  afraid  of  it. 

While  they  hesitate,  Laocoon,  the  priest  of  Neptune 
exclaims,  “What  madness,  citizens,  is  this?  Have  you 
not  learned  enough  of  Grecian  fraud  to  be  on  your 
guard  against  it?  For  my  part,  I  fear  the  Greeks  even 
when  they  offer  gifts.”  1  So  saying  he  threw  his  lance 
at  the  horse’s  side.  It  struck,  and  a  hollow  sound 
reverberated  like  a  groan.  Then  perhaps  the  people 
might  have  taken  his  advice  and  destroyed  the  fatal 
horse  and  all  its  contents;  but  just  at  that  moment  a 
group  of  people  appeared,  dragging  forward  one  who 
seemed  a  prisoner  and  a  Greek.  Stupefied  with  terror, 
he  was  brought  before  the  chiefs,  who  reassured  him, 
promising  that  his  life  should  be  spared  on  condition  of 
his  returning  true  answers  to  the  questions  asked  him. 
He  informed  them  that  he  was  a  Greek,  Sinon  by 
name,  and  that  in  consequence  of  the  malice  of  Ulysses 
he  had  been  left  behind  by  his  countrymen  at  their  de¬ 
parture.  With  regard  to  the  wooden  horse,  he  told 
them  that  it  was  a  propitiatory  offering  to  Minerva, 
and  made  so  huge  for  the  express  purpose  of  preventing 
its  being  carried  within  the  city;  for  Calchas  the  prophet 
had  told  them  that  if  the  Trojans  took  possession  of 
it  they  would  assuredly  triumph  over  the  Greeks.  This 
language  turned  the  tide  of  the  people’s  feelings  and 
they  began  to  think  how  they  might  best  secure  the  mon¬ 
strous  horse  and  the  favorable  auguries  connected  with 
it,  when  suddenly  a  prodigy  occurred  which  left  no 
room  to  doubt.  There  appeared,  advancing  over  the 
sea,  two  immense  serpents.  They  came  upon  the  land, 
and  the  crowd  fled  in  all  directions.  The  serpents  ad¬ 
vanced  directly  to  the  spot  where  Laocoon  stood  with 
his  two  sons.  They  first  attacked  the  children,  winding 

1  See  Proverbial  Expressions. 


THE  FALL  OF  TROY 


231 


round  their  bodies  and  breathing  their  pestilential  breath 
in  their  faces.  The  father,  attempting  to  rescue  them, 
is  next  seized  and  involved  in  the  serpents’  coils.  He 
struggles  to  tear  them  away,  but  they  overpower  all  his 
efforts  and  strangle  him  and  the  children  in  their  poison¬ 
ous  folds.  This  event  was  regarded  as  a  clear  indication 
of  the  displeasure  of  the  gods  at  Laocoon’s  irreverent 
treatment  of  the  wooden  horse,  which  they  no  longer 
hesitated  to  regard  as  a  sacred  object,  and  prepared  to 
introduce  with  due  solemnity  into  the  city.  This  was 
done  with  songs  and  triumphal  acclamations,  and  the 
day  closed  with  festivity.  In  the  night  the  armed  men 
who  were  enclosed  in  the  body  of  the  horse,  being  let 
out  by  the  traitor  Sinon,  opened  the  gates  of  the  city 
to  their  friends,  who  had  returned  under  cover  of  the 
night.  The  city  was  set  on  fire;  the  people,  overcome 
with  feasting  and  sleep,  put  to  the  sword,  and  Troy 
completely  subdued. 

One  of  the  most  celebrated  groups  of  statuary  in  ex¬ 
istence  is  that  of  Laocoon  and  his  children  in  the  em¬ 
brace  of  the  serpents.  A  cast  of  it  is  owned  by  the  Bos¬ 
ton  Athenaeum ;  the  original  is  in  the  Vatican  at  Rome. 
The  following  lines  are  from  the  “Childe  Harold”  of 
Byron : 

“Now  turning  to  the  Vatican  go  see 
Laocoon’s  torture  dignifying  pain; 

A  father’s  love  and  mortal’s  agony 
With  an  immortal’s  patience  blending; — vain 
The  struggle!  vain  against  the  coiling  strain 
And  gripe  and  deepening  of  the  dragon’s  grasp . 

The  old  man’s  clinch;  the  long  envenomed  chain 
Rivets  the  living  links ;  the  enormous  asp 
Enforces  pang  on  pang  and  stifles  gasp  on  gasp.” 

The  comic  poets  will  also  occasionally  borrow  a  classi¬ 
cal  allusion.  The  following  is  from  Swift’s  “Descrip¬ 
tion  of  a  City  Shower” : 

“Boxed  in  a  chair  the  beau  impatient  sits, 

While  spouts  run  clattering  o’er  the  roof  by  fits, 

And  ever  and  anon  with  frightful  din 
The  leather  sounds;  he  trembles  from  within. 


232  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


So  when  Troy  chairmen  bore  the  wooden  steed 
Pregnant  with  Greeks  impatient  to  be  freed, 

(Those  bully  Greeks,  who,  as  the  moderns  do, 

Instead  of  paying  chairmen,  run  them  through)  ; 
Laocoon  struck  the  outside  with  a  spear, 

And  each  imprisoned  champion  quaked  with  fear.” 

King  Priam  lived  to  see  the  downfall  of  his  kingdom 
and  was  slain  at  last  on  the  fatal  night  when  the  Greeks 
took  the  city.  He  had  armed  himself  and  was  about 
to  mingle  with  the  combatants,  but  was  prevailed  on  by 
Hecuba,  his  aged  queen,  to  take  refuge  with  herself 
and  his  daughters  as  a  suppliant  at  the  altar  of  Jupiter. 
While  there,  his  youngest  son  Polites,  pursued  by 
Pyrrhus,  the  son  of  Achilles,  rushed  in  wounded,  and 
expired  at  the  feet  of  his  father;  whereupon  Priam, 
overcome  with  indignation,  hurled  his  spear  with  feeble 
hand  against  Pyrrhus,1  and  was  forthwith  slain  by  him. 

Queen  Hecuba  and  her  daughter  Cassandra  were 
carried  captives  to  Greece.  Cassandra  had  been  loved 
by  Apollo,  and  he  gave  her  the  gift  of  prophecy;  but 
afterwards  offended  with  her,  he  rendered  the  gift  un¬ 
availing  by  ordaining  that  her  predictions  should  never 
be  believed.  Polyxena,  another  daughter,  who  had 
been  loved  by  Achilles,  was  demanded  by  the  ghost  of 
that  warrior,  and  was  sacrificed  by  the  Greeks  upon  his 
tomb. 

MENELAUS  AND  HELEN 

Our  readers  will  be  anxious  to  know  the  fate  of 
Helen,  the  fair  but  guilty  occasion  of  so  much  slaughter. 
On  the  fall  of  Troy  Menelaus  recovered  possession  of 
his  wife,  who  had  not  ceased  to  love  him,  though  she 
had  yielded  to  the  might  of  Venus  and  deserted  him  for 
another.  After  the  death  of  Paris  she  aided  the  Greeks 
secretly  on  several  occasions,  and  in  particular  when 
Ulysses  and  Diomed  entered  the  city  in  disguise  to 
carry  off  the  Palladium.  She  saw  and  recognized 
Ulysses,  but  kept  the  secret  and  even  assisted  them  in 
obtaining  the  image.  Thus  she  became  reconciled  to 

1  Pyrrhus’s  exclamation,  “Not  such  aid  nor  such  defenders  does  th« 
time  require,”  has  become  proverbial.  See  Proverbial  Expressions. 


HELEN  OF  TROY. 

From  painting  by  Lord  Leighton 


AGAMEMNON,  ORESTES,  AND  ELECTRA  233 


her  husband,  and  they  were  among  the  first  to  leave 
the  shores  of  Troy  for  their  native  land.  But  having 
incurred  the  displeasure  of  the  gods  they  were  driven  by 
storms  from  shore  to  shore  of  the  Mediterranean,  visit¬ 
ing  Cyprus,  Phoenicia,  and  Egypt.  In  Egypt  they  were 
kindly  treated  and  presented  with  rich  gifts,  of  which 
Helen’s  share  was  a  golden  spindle  and  a  basket  on 
wheels.  The  basket  was  to  hold  the  wool  and  spools 
for  the  queen’s  work. 

Dyer,  in  his  poem  of  the  “Fleece,”  thus  alludes  to 
this  incident : 

“.  .  .  many  yet  adhere 
To  the  ancient  distaff,  at  the  bosom  fixed, 

Casting  the  whirling  spindle  as  they  walk. 

«••♦••• 

This  was  of  old,  in  no  inglorious  days, 

The  mode  of  spinning,  when  the  Egyptian  prince 
A  golden  distaff  gave  that  beauteous  nymph, 

Too  beauteous  Helen;  no  uncourtly  gift.” 

Milton  also  alludes  to  a  famous  recipe  for  an  invig¬ 
orating  draught,  called  Nepenthe,  which  the  Egyptian 
queen  gave  to  Helen : 

“Not  that  Nepenthes  which  the  wife  of  Thone 
In  Egypt  gave  to  Jove-born  Helena, 

Is  of  such  power  to  stir  up  joy  as  this, 

To  life  so  friendly  or  so  cool  to  thirst.” 

— Comus. 

Menelaus  and  Helen  at  length  arrived  in  safety  at 
Sparta,  resumed  their  royal  dignity,  and  lived  and 
reigned  in  splendor;  and  when  Telemachus,  the  son  of 
Ulysses,  in  search  of  his  father,  arrived  at  Sparta,  he 
found  Menelaus  and  Helen  celebrating  the  marriage  of 
their  daughter  Hermione  to  Neoptolemus,  son  of 
Achilles. 


AGAMEMNON,  ORESTES,  AND  ELECTRA 

Agamemnon,  the  general-in-chief  of  the  Greeks,  the 
brother  of  Menelaus,  and  who  had  been  drawn  into 
the  quarrel  to  avenge  his  brother’s  wrongs,  not  his  own, 


234  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


was  not  so  fortunate  in  the  issue.  During  his  absence 
his  wife  Clytemnestra  had  been  false  to  him,  and  when 
his  return  was  expected,  she  with  her  paramour,  Hfgis- 
thus,  laid  a  plan  for  his  destruction,  and  at  the  banquet 
given  to  celebrate  his  return,  murdered  him. 

It  was  intended  by  the  conspirators  to  slay  his  son 
Orestes  also,  a  lad  not  yet  old  enough  to  be  an  object 
of  apprehension,  but  from  whom,  if  he  should  be  suf¬ 
fered  to  grow  up,  there  might  be  danger.  Electra,  the 
sister  of  Orestes,  saved  her  brother’s  life  by  sending 
him  secretly  away  to  his  uncle  Strophius,  King  of 
Phocis.  In  the  palace  of  Strophius  Orestes  grew  up 
with  the  king’s  son  Pylades,  and  formed  with  him  that 
ardent  friendship  which  has  become  proverbial.  Electra 
frequently  reminded  her  brother  by  messengers  of  the 
duty  of  avenging  his  father’s  death,  and  when  grown  up 
he  consulted  the  oracle  of  Delphi,  which  confirmed  him 
in  his  design.  He  therefore  repaired  in  disguise  to 
Argos,  pretending  to  be  a  messenger  from  Strophius,  who 
had  come  to  announce  the  death  of  Orestes,  afid  brought 
the  ashes  of  the  deceased  in  a  funeral  urn.  After  visit¬ 
ing  his  father’s  tomb  and  sacrificing  upon  it,  according 
to  the  rites  of  the  ancients,  he  made  himself  known  to 
his  sister  Electra,  and  soon  after  slew  both  Higisthus 
and  Clytemnestra. 

This  revolting  act,  the  slaughter  of  a  mother  by  her 
son,  though  alleviated  by  the  guilt  of  the  victim  and 
the  express  command  of  the  gods,  did  not  fail  to  awaken 
in  the  breasts  of  the  ancients  the  same  abhorrence  that 
it  does  in  ours.  The  Eumenides,  avenging  deities, 
seized  upon  Orestes,  and  drove  him  frantic  from  land 
to  land.  Pylades  accompanied  him  in  his  wanderings 
and  watched  over  him.  At  length,  in  answer  to  a  second 
appeal  to  the  oracle,  he  was  directed  to  go  to  Tauris  in 
Scythia,  and  to  bring  thence  a  statue  of  Diana  which 
was  believed  to  have  fallen  from  heaven.  Accordingly 
Orestes  and  Pylades  went  to  Tauris,  where  the  barbar¬ 
ous  people  were  accustomed  to  sacrifice  to  the  goddess 
all  strangers  who  fell  into  their  hands.  The  two  friends 
were  seized  and  carried  bound  to  the  temple  to  be  made 
victims.  But  the  priestess  of  Diana  was  no  other  than 


AGAMEMNON,  ORESTES,  AND  ELECTRA  235 


Iphigenia,  the  sister  of  Orestes,  who,  our  readers  will 
remember,  was  snatched  away  by  Diana  at  the  moment 
when  she  was  about  to  be  sacrificed.  Ascertaining  from 
the  prisoners  who  they  were,  Iphigenia  disclosed  herself 
to  them,  and  the  three  made  their  escape  with  the  statue 
of  the  goddess,  and  returned  to  Mycenae. 

But  Orestes  was  not  yet  relieved  from  the  vengeance 
of  the  Erinyes.  At  length  he  took  refuge  with  Minerva 
at  Athens.  The  goddess  afforded  him  protection,  and 
appointed  the  court  of  Areopagus  to  decide  his  fate. 
The  Erinyes  brought  forward  their  accusation,  and 
Orestes  made  the  command  of  the  Delphic  oracle  his 
excuse.  When  the  court  voted  and  the  voices  were 
equally  divided,  Orestes  was  acquitted  by  the  command 
of  Minerva. 

Byron,  in  “Childe  Harold,”  Canto  IV.,  alludes  to  the 
story  of  Orestes: 

“O  thou  who  never  yet  of  human  wrong 
Left  the  unbalanced  scale,  great  Nemesis! 

Thou  who  didst  call  the  Furies  from  the  abyss. 

And  round  Orestes  bade  them  howl  and  hiss, 

For  that  unnatural  retribution, — just, 

Had  it  but  been  from  hands  less  near, — in  this, 

Thy  former  realm,  I  call  thee  from  the  dust !” 

One  of  the  most  pathetic  scenes  in  the  ancient  drama 
is  that  in  which  Sophocles  represents  the  meeting  of 
Orestes  and  Electra,  on  his  return  from  Phocis.  Ores¬ 
tes,  mistaking  Electra  for  one  of  the  domestics,  and 
desirous  of  keeping  his  arrival  a  secret  till  the  hour  of 
vengeance  should  arrive,  produces  the  urn  in  which 
his  ashes  are  supposed  to  rest.  Electra,  believing  him 
to  be  really  dead,  takes  the  urn  and,  embracing  it, 
pours  forth  her  grief  in  language  full  of  tenderness  and 
despair. 

Milton,  in  one  of  his  sonnets,  says: 

“.  .  .  The  repeated  air 
Of  sad  Electra’ s  poet  had  the  power 
To  save  the  Athenian  walls  from  ruin  bare.” 


236  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


This  alludes  to  the  story  that  when,  on  one  occasion, 
the  city  of  Athens  was  at  the  mercy  of  her  Spartan  foes, 
and  it  was  proposed  to  destroy  it,  the  thought  was  re¬ 
jected  upon  the  accidental  quotation,  by  some  one,  of 
a  chorus  of  Euripides. 


troy 


The  facts  relating  to  the  city  of  Troy  are  still  unknown 
to  history.  Antiquarians  have -long  sought  for  the  actual 
city  and  some  record  of  its  rulers.  The  most  interesting 
explorations  were  those  conducted  about  1890  by  the  Ger¬ 
man  scholar,  Henry  Schliemann,  who  believed  that  at  the 
mound  of  Hissarlik,  the  traditional  site  of  Troy,  he  had 
uncovered  the  ancient  capital.  Schliemann  excavated 
down  below  the  ruins  of  three  or  four  settlements,  each 
revealing  an  earlier  civilization,  and  finally  came  upon 
some  royal  jewels  and  other  relics  said  to  be  “Priam’s 
Treasure.”  Scholars  are  by  no  means  agreed  as  to  the 
historic  value  of  these  discoveries. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

ADVENTURES  OF  ULYSSES - THE  LOTUS-EATERS - CYCLOPES 

- CIRCE - SIRENS - SCYLLA  AND  CHARYBDIS - CALYPSO 

RETURN  OF  ULYSSES 

The  romantic  poem  of  the  Odyssey  is  now  to  engage 
our  attention.  It  narrates  the  wanderings  of  Ulysses 
(Odysseus  in  the  Greek  language)  in  his  return  from 
Troy  to  his  own  kingdom  Ithaca. 

.From  Troy  the  vessels  first  made  land  at  Ismarus, 
city  of  the  Ciconians,  where,  in  a  skirmish  with  the 
inhabitants,  Ulysses  lost  six  men  from  each  ship.  Sail¬ 
ing  thence,  they  were  overtaken  by  a  storm  which  drove 


RETURN  OF  ULYSSES 


237 


them  for  nine  days  along  the  sea  till  they  reached  the 
country  of  the  Lotus-eaters.  Here,  after  watering, 
Ulysses  sent  three  of  his  men  to  discover  who  the  in¬ 
habitants  were.  These  men  on  coming  among  the  Lotus- 
eaters  were  kindly  entertained  by  them,  and  were  given 
some  of  their  own  food,  the  lotus-plant,  to  eat.  The 
effect  of  this  food  was  such  that  those  who  partook  of 
it  lost  all  thoughts  of  home  and  wished  to  remain  in 
that  country.  It  was  by  main  force  that  Ulysses  dragged 
these  men  away,  and  he  was  even  obliged  to  tie  them 
under  the  benches  of  the  ships.1 

They  next  arrived  at  the  country  of  the  Cyclopes. 
The  Cyclopes  were  giants,  who  inhabited  an  island  of 
which  they  were  the  only  possessors.  The  name  means 
“round  eye,”  and  these  giants  were  so  called  because 
they  had  but  one  eye,  and  that  placed  in  the  middle  of 
the  forehead.  They  dwelt  in  caves  and  fed  on  the  wild 
productions  of  the  island  and  on  what  their  flocks 
yielded,  for  they  were  shepherds.  Ulysses  left  the 
main  body  of  his  ships  at  anchor,  and  with  one  vessel 
went  to  the  Cyclopes’  island  to  explore  for  supplies.  He 
landed  with  his  companions,  carrying  with  them  a  jar  of 
wine  for  a  present,  and  coming  to  a  large  cave  they 
entered  it,  and  finding  no  one  within  examined  its  con¬ 
tents.  They  found  it  stored  with  the  richest  of  the 
flock,  quantities  of  cheese,  pails  and  bowls  of  milk, 
lambs  and  kids  in  their  pens,  all  in  nice  order.  Presently 
arrived  the  master  of  the  cave,  Polyphemus,  bearing  an 
immense  bundle  of  firewood,  which  he  threw  down  be¬ 
fore  the  cavern’s  mouth.  He  then  drove  into  the  cave 

1  Tennyson  in  the  “Lotus-eaters”  has  charmingly  expressed  the  dreamy, 
ianguid  feeling  which  the  lotus  food  is  said  to  have  produced. 

“How  sweet  it  were,  hearing  the  downward  stream 
With  half-shut  eyes  ever  to  seem  , 

Falling  asleep  in  a  half  dream! 

To  dream  and  dream,  like  yonder  amber  light 

Which  will  not  leave  the  myrrh-bush  on  the  height; 

To  hear  each  others’  whispered  speech; 

Eating  the  Lotos,  day  by  day, 

To  watch  the  crisping  ripples  on  the  beach, 

And  tender  curving  lines  of  creamy  spray: 

To  lend  our  hearts  and  spirits  wholly 
To  the  influence  of  mild-minded  melancholy; 

To  muse  and  brood  and  live  again  in  memory. 

With  those  old  faces  of  our  infancy 
Heaped  over  with  a  mound  of  grass. 

Two  handfuls  of  white  dust,  shut  in  an  urn  of  brass.” 


238  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


the  sheep  and  goats  to  be  milked,  and,  entering,  rolled 
to  the  cave’s  mouth  an  enormous  rock,  that  twenty  oxen 
could  not  draw.  Next  he  sat  down  and  milked  his 
ewes,  preparing  a  part  for  cheese,  and  setting  the  rest 
aside  for  his  customary  drink.  Then,  turning  round 
his  great  eye,  he  discerned  the  strangers,  and  growled 
out  to  them,  demanding  who  they  were,  and  where  from. 
Ulysses  replied  most  humbly,  stating  that  they  were 
Greeks,  from  the  great  expedition  that  had  lately  won 
so  much  glory  in  the  conquest  of  Troy;  that  they  were 
now  on  their  way  home,  and  finished  by  imploring  his 
hospitality  in  the  name  of  the  gods.  Polyphemus 
deigned  no  answer,  but  reaching  out  his  hand  seized 
two  of  the  Greeks,  whom  he  hurled  against  the  side  of 
the  cave,  and  dashed  out  their  brains.  He  proceeded 
to  devour  them  with  great  relish,  and  having  made  a 
hearty  meal,  stretched  himself  out  on  the  floor  to  sleep. 
Ulysses  was  tempted  to  seize  the  opportunity  and  plunge 
his  sword  into  him  as  he  slept,  but  recollected  that  it 
would  only  expose  them  all  to  certain  destruction,  as  the 
rock  with  which  the  giant  had  closed  up  the  door  was  far 
beyond  their  power  to  remove,  and  they  would  there¬ 
fore  be  in  hopeless  imprisonment.  Next  morning  the 
giant  seized  two  more  of  the  Greeks,  and  despatched 
them  in  the  same  manner  as  their  companions,  feasting 
on  their  flesh  till  no  fragment  was  left.  He  then  moved 
away  the  rock  from  the  door,  drove  out  his  flocks,  and 
went  out,  carefully  replacing  the  barrier  after  him. 
When  he  was  gone  Ulysses  planned  how  he  might  take 
vengeance  for  his  murdered  friends,  and  effect  his 
escape  with  his  surviving  companions.  He  made  his  men 
prepare  a  massive  bar  of  wood  cut  by  the  Cyclops  for 
a  staff,  which  they  found  in  the  cave.  They  sharpened 
the  end  of  it,  and  seasoned  it  in  the  fire,  and  hid  it 
under  the  straw  on  the  cavern  floor.  Then  four  of 
the  boldest  were  selected,  with  whom  Ulysses  joined 
himself  as  a  fifth.  The  Cyclops  came  home  at  evening, 
rolled  away  the  stone  and  drove  in  his  flock  as  usual. 
After  milking  them  and  making  his  arrangements  as  be¬ 
fore,  he  seized  two  more  of  Ulysses’  companions  and 
dashed  their  brains  out,  and  made  his  evening  meal 


RETURN  OF  ULYSSES 


239 


upon  them  as  he  had  on  the  others.  After  he  had 
supped,  Ulysses  approaching  him  handed  him  a  bowl  of 
wine,  saying,  “Cyclops,  this  is  wine;  taste  and  drink 
after  thy  meal  of  men’s  flesh.”  He  took  and  drank  it, 
and  was  hugely  delighted  with  it,  and  called  for  more. 
Ulysses  supplied  him  once  again,  which  pleased  the  giant 
so  much  that  he  promised  him  as  a  favor  that  he  should 
be  the  last  of  the  party  devoured.  He  asked  his  name, 
to  which  Ulysses  replied,  “My  name  is  Noman.” 

After  his  supper  the  giant  lay  down  to  repose,  and 
was  soon  sound  asleep.  Then  Ulysses  with  his  four 
select  friends  thrust  the  end  of  the  stake  into  the  fire 
till  it  was  all  one  burning  coal,  then  poising  it  exactly 
above  the  giant’s  only  eye,  they  buried  it  deeply  into 
the  socket,  twirling  it  round  as  a  carpenter  does  his 
auger.  The  howling  monster  with  his  outcry  filled  the 
cavern,  and  Ulysses  with  his  aids  nimbly  got  out  of 
his  way  and  concealed  themselves  in  the  cave.  He, 
bellowing,  called  aloud  on  all  the  Cyclopes  dwelling  in 
the  caves  around  him,  far  and  near.  They  on  his  cry 
flocked  round  the  den,  and  inquired  what  grievous  hurt 
had  caused  him  to  sound  such  an  alarm  and  break  their 
slumbers.  He  replied,  “O  friends,  I  die,  and  Noman 
gives  the  blow.”  They  answered,  “If  no  man  hurts  thee 
it  is  the  stroke  of  Jove,  and  thou  must  bear  it.”  So 
saying,  they  left  him  groaning. 

Next  morning  the  Cyclops  rolled  away  the  stone  to 
let  his  flock  out  to  pasture,  but  planted  himself  in  the 
door  of  the  cave  to  feel  of  all  as  they  went  out,  that 
Ulysses  and  his  men  should  not  escape  with  them.  But 
Ulysses  had  made  his  men  harness  the  rams  of  the 
flock  three  abreast,  with  osiers  which  they  found  on  the 
floor  of  the  cave.  To  the  middle  ram  of  the  three  one 
of  the  Greeks  suspended  himself,  so  protected  by  the 
exterior  rams  on  either  side.  As  they  passed,  the  giant 
felt  of  the  animals’  backs  and  sides,  but  never  thought 
of  their  bellies ;  so  the  men  all  passed  safe,  Ulysses  him¬ 
self  being  on  the  last  one  that  passed.  When  they  had 
got  a  few  paces  from  the  cavern,  Ulysses  and  his  friends 
released  themselves  from  their  rams,  and  drove  a  good 
part  of  the  flock  down  to  the  shore  to  their  boat.  They 


240  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


put  them  aboard  with  all  haste,  then  pushed  off  from 
the  shore,  and  when  at  a  safe  distance  Ulysses  shouted 
out,  “Cyclops,  the  gods  have  well  requited  thee  for  thy 
atrocious  deeds.  Know  it  is  Ulysses  to  whom  thou 
owest  thy  shameful  loss  of  sight.”  The  Cyclops,  hear¬ 
ing  this,  seized  a  rock  that  projected  from  the  side  of 
the  mountain,  and  rending  it  from  its  bed,  he  lifted 
it  high  in  the  air,  then  exerting  all  his  force,  hurled  it 
in  the  direction  of  the  voice.  Down  came  the  mass, 
just  clearing  the  vessel’s  stern.  The  ocean,  at  the  plunge 
of  the  huge  rock,  heaved  the  ship  towards  the  land,  so 
that  it  barely  escaped  being  swamped  by  the  waves. 
When  they  had  with  the  utmost  difficulty  pulled  off 
shore,  Ulysses  was  about  to  hail  the  giant  again,  but 
his  friends  besought  him  not  to  do  so.  He  could  not 
forbear,  however,  letting  the  giant  know  that  they  had 
escaped  his  missile,  but  waited  till  they  had  reached  a 
safer  distance  than  before.  The  giant  answered  them 
with  curses,  but  Ulysses  and  his  friends  plied  their  oars 
vigorously,  and  soon  regained  their  companions. 

Ulysses  next  arrived  at  the  island  of  yEolus.  To  this 
monarch  Jupiter  had  intrusted  the  government  of  the 
winds,  to  send  them  forth  or  retain  them  at  his  will. 
He  treated  Ulysses  hospitably,  and  at  his  departure  gave 
him,  tied  up  in  a  leathern  bag,  with  a  silver  string, 
such  winds  as  might  be  hurtful  and  dangerous,  com¬ 
manding  fair  winds  to  blow  the  barks  towards  their  coun¬ 
try.  Nine  days  they  sped  before  the  wind,  and  all  that 
time  Ulysses  had  stood  at  the  helm,  without  sleep.  At 
last  quite  exhausted  he  lay  down  to  sleep.  While  he 
slept,  the  crew  conferred  together  about  the  mysterious 
bag,  and  concluded  it  must  contain  treasures  given  by 
the  hospitable  king  Hiolus  to  their  commander.  Tempt¬ 
ed  to  secure  some  portion  for  themselves,  they  loosed 
the  string,  when  immediately  the  winds  rushed  forth. 
The  ships  were  driven  far  from  their  course,  and  back 
again  to  the  island  they  had  just  left.  HLolus  was  so 
indignant  at  their  folly  that  he  refused  to  assist  them 
further,  and  they  were  obliged  to  labor  over  their  course 
once  more  by  means  of  their  oars. 


THE  LiESTRY GONIAN S 


241 


THE  L^ESTR Y GO NI ANS 

Their  next  adventure  was  with  the  barbarous  tribe 
of  Lsestrygonians.  The  vessels  all  pushed  into  the  har¬ 
bor,  tempted  by  the  secure  appearance  of  the  cove,  com¬ 
pletely  land-locked;  only  Ulysses  moored  his  vessel 
without.  As  soon  as  the  Laestrygonians  found  the  ships 
completely  in  their  power  they  attacked  them,  heaving 
huge  stones  which  broke  and  overturned  them,  and  with 
their  spears  despatched  the  seamen  as  they  struggled 
in  the  water.  All  the  vessels  with  their  crews  were  de¬ 
stroyed,  except  Ulysses’  own  ship,  which  had  remained 
outside,  and  finding  no  safety  but  in  flight,  he  exhorted 
his  men  to  ply  their  oars  vigorously,  and  they  escaped. 

With  grief  for  their  slain  companions  mixed  with  joy 
at  their  own  escape,  they  pursued  their  way  till  they 
arrived  at  the  zEaean  isle,  where  Circe  dwelt,  the  daugh¬ 
ter  of  the  sun.  Landing  here,  Ulysses  climbed  a  hill, 
and  gazing  round  saw  no  signs  of  habitation  except  in 
one  spot  at  the  centre  of  the  island,  where  he  perceived 
a  palace  embowered  with  trees.  He  sent  forward  one- 
half  of  his  crew,  under  the  command  of  Eurylochus,  to 
see  what  prospect  of  hospitality  they  might  find.  As 
they  approached  the  palace,  they  found  themselves  sur¬ 
rounded  by  lions,  tigers,  and  wolves,  not  fierce,  but  tamed 
by  Circe’s  art,  for  she  was  a  powerful  magician.  All 
these  animals  had  once  been  men,  but  had  been  changed 
by  Circe’s  enchantments  into  the  forms  of  beasts.  The 
sounds  of  soft  music  were  heard  from  within,  and  a 
sweet  female  voice  singing.  Eurylochus  called  aloud 
and  the  goddess  came  forth  and  invited  them  in;  they 
all  gladly  entered  except  Eurylochus,  who  suspected  dan¬ 
ger.  The  goddess  conducted  her  guests  to  a  seat,  and 
had  them  served  with  wine  and  other  delicacies.  When 
they  had  feasted  heartily,  she  touched  them  one  by  one 
with  her  wand,  and  they  became  immediately  changed 
into  swine ,  in  “head,  body,  voice,  and  bristles,”  yet  with 
their  intellects  as  before.  She  shut  them  in  her  sties 
and  supplied  them  with  acorns  and  such  other  things 
as  swine  love. 

Eurylochus  hurried  back  to  the  ship  and  told  the 


242  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


tale.  Ulysses  thereupon  determined  to  go  himself,  and 
try  if  by  any  means  he  might  deliver  his  companions. 
As  he  strode  onward  alone,  he  met  a  youth  who  ad¬ 
dressed  him  familiarly,  appearing  to  be  acquainted  with 
his  adventures.  He  announced  himself  as  Mercury,  and 
informed  Ulysses  of  the  arts  of  Circe,  and  of  the  dan¬ 
ger  of  approaching  her.  As  Ulysses  was  not  to  be  dis¬ 
suaded  from  his  attempt,  Mercury  provided  him  with 
a  sprig  of  /the  plant  Moly,  of  wonderful  power  to  resist 
sorceries,  and  instructed  him  how  to  act.  Ulysses  pro¬ 
ceeded,  and  reaching  the  palace  was  courteously  received 
by  Circe,  who  entertained  him  as  she  had  done  his  com¬ 
panions,  and  after  he  had  eaten  and  drank,  touched 
him  with  her  wand,  saying,  “Hence,  seek  the  sty  and 
wallow  with  thy  friends.”  But  he,  instead  of  obeying, 
drew  his  sword  and  rushed  upon  her  with  fury  in  his 
countenance.  She  fell  on  her  knees  and  begged  for 
mercy.  He  dictated  a  solemn  oath  that  she  would  re¬ 
lease  his  companions  and  practise  no  further  harm 
against  him  or  them;  and  she  repeated  it,  at  the  same 
time  promising  to  dismiss  them  all  in  safety  after  hos¬ 
pitably  entertaining  them.  She  was  as  good  as  her 
word.  The  men  were  restored  to  their  shapes,  the  rest 
of  the  crew  summoned  from  the  shore,  and  the  whole 
magnificently  entertained  day  after  day,  till  Ulysses 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  his  native  land,  and  to  have 
reconciled  himself  to  an  inglorious  life  of  ease  and 
pleasure. 

At  length  his  companions  recalled  him  to  nobler  sen¬ 
timents,  and  he  received  their  admonition  gratefully. 
Circe  aided  their  departure,  and  instructed  them  how  to 
pass  safely  by  the  coast  of  the  Sirens.  The  Sirens  were 
sea-nymphs  who  had  the  power  of  charming  by  their 
song  all  who  heard  them,  so  that  the  unhappy  mariners 
were  irresistibly  impelled  to  cast  themselves  into  the  sea 
to  their  destruction.  Circe  directed  Ulysses  to  fill  the 
ears  of  his  seamen  with  wax,  so  that  they  should  not 
hear  the  strain ;  and  to  cause  himself  to  be  bound  to  the 
mast,  and  his  people  to  be  strictly  enjoined,  whatever 
he  might  say  or  do,  by  no  means  to  release  him  till  they 
should  have  passed  the  Sirens’  island.  Ulysses  obeyed 


SCYLLA  AND  CHARYBDIS 


243 


these  directions.  He  filled  the  ears  of  his  people  with 
wax,  and  suffered  them  to  bind  him  with  cords  firmly 
to  the  mast.  As  they  approached  the  Sirens’  island, 
the  sea  was  calm,  and  over  the  waters  came  the  notes  of 
music  so  ravishing  and  attractive  that  Ulysses  struggled 
to  get  loose,  and  by  cries  and  signs  to  his  people  begged 
to  be  released;  but  they,  obedient  to  his  previous  orders, 
sprang  forward  and  bound  him  still  faster.  They  held 
on  their  course,  and  the  music  grew  fainter  till  it  ceased 
to  be  heard,  when  with  joy  Ulysses  gave  his  companions 
the  signal  to  unseal  their  ears,  and  they  relieved  him 
from  his  bonds. 

The  imagination  of  a  modern  poet,  Keats,  has  dis¬ 
covered  for  us  the  thoughts  that  passed  through  the 
brains  of  the  victims  of  Circe,  after  their  transforma¬ 
tion.  In  his  “Endymion”  he  represents  one  of  them,  a 
monarch  in  the  guise  of  an  elephant,  addressing  the  sor¬ 
ceress  in  human  language,  thus : 

“I  sue  not  for  my  happy  crown  again ; 

I  sue  not  for  my  phalanx  on  the  plain  ; 

I  sue  not  for  my  lone,  my  widowed  wife; 

I  sue  not  for  my  ruddy  drops  of  life, 

My  children  fair,  my  lovely  girls  and  boys; 

I  will  forget  them;  I  will  pass  these  joys, 

Ask  nought  so  heavenward;  so  too — too  high; 

Only  I  pray,  as  fairest  boon,  to  die; 

To  be  delivered  from  this  cumbrous  flesh, 

From  this  gross,  detestable,  filthy  mesh, 

And  merely  given  to  the  cold,  bleak  air. 

Have  mercy,  goddess!  Circe,  feel  my  prayer!” 

SCYLLA  AND  CHARYBDIS 

Ulysses  had  been  warned  by  Circe  of  the  two  mon¬ 
sters  Scylla  and  Charybdis.  We  have  already  met  with 
Scylla  in  the  story  of  Glaucus,  and  remember  that  she 
was  once  a  beautiful  maiden  and  was  changed  into  a 
snaky  monster  by  Circe.  She  dwelt  in  a  cave  high  up  on 
the  cliff,  from  whence  she  was  accustomed  to  thrust 
forth  her  long  necks  (for  she  had  six  heads),  and  in 
each  of  her  mouths  to  seize  one  of  the  crew  of  every 
vessel  passing  within  reach.  The  other  terror,  Charyb- 


244  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


dis,  was  a  gulf,  nearly  on  a  level  with  the  water.  Thrice 
each  day  the  water  rushed  into  a  frightful  chasm,  and 
thrice  was  disgorged.  Any  vessel  coming  near  the  whirl¬ 
pool  when  the  tide  was  rushing  in  must  inevitably  be 
ingulfed;  not  Neptune  himself  could  save  it. 

On  approaching  the  haunt  of  the  dread  monsters, 
Ulysses  kept  strict  watch  to  discover  them.  The  roar 
of  the  waters  as  Charybdis  ingulfed  them,  gave  warn¬ 
ing  at  a  distance,  but  Scylla  could  nowhere  be  discerned. 
While  Ulysses  and  his  men  watched  with  anxious  eyes 
the  dreadful  whirlpool,  they  were  not  equally  on  their 
guard  from  the  attack  of  Scylla,  and  the  monster,  dart¬ 
ing  forth  her  snaky  heads,  caught  six  of  his  men,  and 
bore  them  away,  shrieking,  to  her  den.  It  was  the  sad¬ 
dest  sight  Ulysses  had  yet  seen;  to  behold  his  friends 
thus  sacrificed  and  hear  their  cries,  unable  to  afford  them 
any  assistance. 

Circe  had  warned  him  of  another  danger.  After  pass¬ 
ing  Scylla  and  Charybdis  the  next  land  he  would  make 
was  Thrinakia,  an  island  whereon  were  pastured  the 
cattle  of  Hyperion,  the  Sun,  tended  by  his  daughters 
Lampetia  and  Phaethusa.  These  flocks  must  not  be  vio¬ 
lated,  whatever  the  wants  of  the  voyagers  might  be.  If 
this  injunction  were  transgressed  destruction  was  sure 
to  fall  on  the  offenders. 

Ulysses  would  willingly  have  passed  the  island  of 
the  Sun  without  stopping,  but  his  companions  so  ur¬ 
gently  pleaded  for  the  rest  and  refreshment  that  would 
be  derived  from  anchoring  and  passing  the  night  on 
shore,  that  Ulysses  yielded.  He  bound  them,  however, 
with  an  oath  that  they  would  not  touch  one  of  the 
animals  of  the  sacred  flocks  and  herds,  but  content 
themselves  with  what  provision  they  yet  had  left  of  the 
supply  which  Circe  had  put  on  board.  So  long  as  this 
supply  lasted  the  people  kept  their  oath,  but  contrary 
winds  detained  them  at  the  island  for  a  month,  and  after 
consuming  all  their  stock  of  provisions,  they  were  forced 
to  rely  upon  the  birds  and  fishes  they  could  catch. 
Famine  pressed  them,  and  at  length  one  day,  in  the  ab¬ 
sence  of  Ulysses,  they  slew  some  of  the  cattle,  vainly 
attempting  to  make  amends  for  the  deed  by  offering 


CALYPSO 


245 


from  them  a  portion  to  the  offended  powers.  Ulysses, 
on  his  return  to  the  shore,  was  horror-struck  at  per¬ 
ceiving  what  they  had  done,  and  the  more  so  on  account 
of  the  portentous  signs  which  followed.  The  skins  crept- 
on  the  ground,  and  the  joints  of  meat  lowed  on  the  spits' 
while  roasting. 

The  wind  becoming  fair  they  sailed  from  the  island. 
They  had  not  gone  far  when  the  weather  changed, 
and  a  storm  of  thunder  and  lightning  ensued.  A  stroke 
of  lightning  shattered  their  mast,  which  in  its  fall  killed 
the  pilot.  At  last  the  vessel  itself  came  to  pieces.  The 
keel  and  mast  floating  side  by  side,  Ulysses  formed  of 
them  a  raft,  to  which  he  clung,  and,  the  wind  changing, 
the  waves  bore  him  to  Calypso’s  island.  All  the  rest  of 
the  crew  perished. 

The  following  allusion  to  the  topics  we  have  just  been 
considering  is  from  Milton’s  “Comus,”  line  252: 

“.  .  .  I  have  often  heard 
My  mother  Circe  and  the  Sirens  three, 

Amidst  the  flowery-kirtled  Naiades, 

Culling  their  potent  herbs  and  baneful  drugs, 

Who  as  they  sung  would  take  the  prisoned  soul 
And  lap  it  in  Elysium.  Scylla  wept, 

And  chid  her  barking  waves  into  attention, 

And  fell  Charybdis  murmured  soft  applause.” 

Scylla  and  Charybdis  have  become  proverbial,  to 
denote  opposite  dangers  which  beset  one’s  course.  See 
Proverbial  Expressions. 

CALYPSO 

Calypso  was  a  sea-nymph,  which  name  denotes  a 
numerous  class  of  female  divinities  of  lower  rank,  yet 
sharing  many  of  the  attributes  of  the  gods.  Calypso 
received  Ulysses  hospitably,  entertained  him  magnifi¬ 
cently,  became  enamoured  of  him,  and  wished  to  retain 
him  forever,  conferring  on  him  immortality.  But  he 
persisted  in  his  resolution  to  return  to  his  country  and 
his  wife  and  son.  Calypso  at  last  received  the  com¬ 
mand  of  Jove  to  dismiss  him.  Mercury  brought  the 


246  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


message  to  her,  and  found  her  in  her  grotto,  which  is 
thus  described  by  Homer : 

“A  garden  vine,  luxuriant  on  all  sides, 

Mantled  the  spacious  cavern,  cluster-hung 
Profuse;  four  fountains  of  serenest  lymph, 

Their  sinuous  course  pursuing  side  by  side, 

Strayed  all  around,  and  everywhere  appeared 
Meadows  of  softest  verdure,  purpled  o’er 
With  violets;  it  was  a  scene  to  fill 
A  god  from  heaven  with  wonder  and  delight.” 

Calypso  with  much  reluctance  proceeded  to  obey  the 
commands  of  Jupiter.  She  supplied  Ulysses  with  the 
means  of  constructing  a  raft;  provisioned  it  well  for  him, 
and  gave  him  a  favoring  gale.  He  sped  on  his  course 
prosperously  for  many  days,  till  at  length,  when  in 
sight  of  land,  a  storm  arose  that  broke  his  mast,  and 
threatened  to  rend  the  raft  asunder.  In  this  crisis  he 
was  seen  by  a  compassionate  sea-nymph,  who  in  the 
form  of  a  cormorant  alighted  on  the  raft,  and  presented 
him  a  girdle,  directing  him  to  bind  it  beneath  his  breast, 
and  if  he  should  be  compelled  to  trust  himself  to  the 
waves,  it  would  buoy  him  up  and  enable  him  by  swim¬ 
ming  to  reach  the  land. 

Fenelon,  in  his  romance  of  “Telemachus,”  has  given 
us  the  adventures  of  the  son  of  Ulysses  in  search  of  his 
father.  Among  other  places  at  which  he  arrived,  fol¬ 
lowing  on  his  father’s  footsteps,  was  Calypso’s  isle,  and, 
as  in  the  former  case,  the  goddess  tried  every  art  to 
keep  him  with  her,  and  offered  to  share  her  immortality 
with  him.  But  Minerva,  who  in  the  shape  of  Mentor 
accompanied  him  and  governed  all  his  movements, 
made  him  repel  her  allurements,  and  when  no  other 
means  of  escape  could  be  found,  the  two  friends  leaped 
from  a  cliff  into  the  sea,  and  swam  to  a  vessel  which 
lay  becalmed  off  shore.  Byron  alludes  to  this  leap  of 
Telemachus  and  Mentor  in  the  following  stanza: 

“But  not  in  silence  pass  Calypso’s  isles, 

The  sister  tenants  of  the  middle  deep; 

There  for  the  weary  still  a  haven  smiles, 

Though  the  fair  goddess  long  has  ceased  to  weep, 


THE  PH2EACIANS 


247 


And  o’er  her  cliffs  a  fruitless  watch  to  keep 
For  him  who  dared  prefer  a  mortal  bride. 

Here  too  his  boy  essayed  the  dreadful  leap, 

Stern  Mentor  urged  from  high  to  yonder  tide; 

While  thus  of  both  bereft  the  nymph-queen  doubly  sighed.” 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE  PH^EACIANS — FATE  OF  THE  SUITORS 
THE  PH^ACIANS 

Ulysses  clung  to  the  raft  while  any  of  its  timbers 
kept  together,  and  when  it  no  longer  yielded  him  sup¬ 
port,  binding  the  girdle  around  him,  he  swam.  Min¬ 
erva  smoothed  the  billows  before  him  and  sent  him  a 
wind  that  rolled  the  waves  towards  the  shore.  The 
surf  beat  high  on  the  rocks  and  seemed  to  forbid  ap¬ 
proach  ;  but  at  length  finding  calm  water  at  the  mouth 
of  a  gentle  stream,  he  landed,  spent  with  toil,  breathless 
and  speechless  and  almost  dead.  After  some  time,  re¬ 
viving,  he  kissed  the  soil,  rejoicing,  yet  at  a  loss  what 
course  to  take.  At  a  short  distance  he  perceived  a  wood, 
to  which  he  turned  his  steps.  There,  finding  a  covert 
sheltered  by  intermingling  branches  alike  from  the  sun 
and  the  rain,  he  collected  a  pile  of  leaves  and  formed 
a  bed,  on  which  he  stretched  himself,  and  heaping  the 
leaves  over  him,  fell  asleep. 

The  land  where  he  was  thrown  was  Scheria,  the  coun¬ 
try  of  the  Phseacians.  These  people  dwelt  originally 
near  the  Cyclopes ;  but  being  oppressed  by  that  savage 
race,  they  migrated  to  the  isle  of  Scheria,  under  the 
conduct  of  Nausithoiis,  their  king.  They  were,  the  poet 
tells  us,  a  people  akin  to  the  gods,  who  appeared  mani¬ 
festly  and  feasted  among  them  when  they  offered  sac¬ 
rifices,  and  did  not  conceal  themselves  from  solitary 
wayfarers  when  they  met  them.  They  had  abundance 
of  wealth  and  lived  in  the  enjoyment  of  it  undisturbed 
by  the  alarms  of  war,  for  as  they  dwelt  remote  from 
gain-seeking  man,  no  enemy  ever  approached  their 


248  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


shores,  and  they  did  not  even  require  to  make  use  of 
bows  and  quivers.  Their  chief  employment  was 
navigation.  Their  ships,  which  went  with  the  velocity 
of  birds,  were  endued  with  intelligence ;  they  knew 
every  port  and  needed  no  pilot.  Alcinoiis,  the  son 
of  Nausithoiis,  was  now  their  king,  a  wise  and  just 
sovereign,  beloved  by  his  people. 

Now  it  happened  that  the  very  night  on  which  Ulysses 
was  cast  ashore  on  the  Phaeacian  island,  and  while  he 
lay  sleeping  on  his  bed  of  leaves,  Nausicaa,  the  daugh¬ 
ter  of  the  king,  had  a  dream  sent  by  Minerva,  remind¬ 
ing  her  that  her  wedding-day  was  not  far  distant,  and 
that  it  would  be  but  a  prudent  preparation  for  that  event 
to  have  a  general  washing  of  the  clothes  of  the  family. 
This  was  no  slight  affair,  for  the  fountains  were  at  some 
distance,  and  the  garments  must  be  carried  thither.  On 
awaking,  the  princess  hastened  to  her  parents  to  tell 
them  what  was  on  her  mind;  not  alluding  to  her  wed¬ 
ding-day,  but  finding  other  reasons  equally  good.  Her 
father  readily  assented  and  ordered  the  grooms  to  fur¬ 
nish  forth  a  wagon  for  the  purpose.  The  clothes  were 
put  therein,  and  the  queen  mother  placed  in  the  wagon, 
likewise,  an  abundant  supply  of  food  and  wine.  The 
princess  took  her  seat  and  plied  the  lash,  her  attendant 
virgins  following  her  on  foot.  Arrived  at  the  river  side, 
they  turned  out  the  mules  to  graze,  and  unlading  the 
carriage,  bore  the  garments  down  to  the  water,  and 
working  with  cheerfulness  and  alacrity  soon  despatched 
their  labor.  Then  having  spread  the  garments  on  the 
shore  to  dry,  and  having  themselves  bathed,  they  sat 
down  to  enjoy  their  meal;  after  which  they  rose  and 
amused  themselves  with  a  game  of  ball,  the  princess 
singing  to  them  while  they  played.  But  when  they  had 
refolded  the  apparel  and  were  about  to  resume  their 
way  to  the  town,  Minerva  caused  the  ball  thrown  by 
the  princess  to  fall  into  the  water,  whereat  they  all 
screamed  and  Ulysses  awaked  at  the  sound. 

Now  we  must  picture  to  ourselves  Ulysses,  a  ship¬ 
wrecked  mariner,  but  a  few  hours  escaped  from  the 
waves,  and  utterly  destitute  of  clothing,  awaking  and 
discovering  that  only  a  few  bushes  were  interposed  be- 


THE  PH^EACIANS 


249 


tween  him  and  a  group  of  young  maidens  whom,  by 
their  deportment  and  attire,  he  discovered  to  be  not 
mere  peasant  girls,  but  of  a  higher  class.  Sadly  need¬ 
ing  help,  how  could  he  yet  venture,  naked  as  he  was, 
to  discover  himself  and  make  his  wants  known?  It 
certainly  was  a  case  worthy  of  the  interposition  of  his 
patron  goddess  Minerva,  who  never  failed  him  at  a 
crisis.  Breaking  off  a  leafy  branch  from  a  tree,  he  held 
it  before  him  and  stepped  out  from  the  thicket.  The 
virgins  at  sight  of  him  fled  in  all  directions,  Nausicaa 
alone  excepted,  for  her  Minerva  aided  and  endowed 
with  courage  and  discernment.  Ulysses,  standing  re¬ 
spectfully  aloof,  told  his  sad  case,  and  besought  the 
fair  object  (whether  queen  or  goddess  he  professed  he 
knew  not)  for  food  and  clothing.  The  princess  replied 
courteously,  promising  present  relief  and  her  father’s 
hospitality  when  he  should  become  acquainted  with  the 
facts.  She  called  back  her  scattered  maidens,  chiding 
their  alarm,  and  reminding  them  that  the  Phseacians  had 
no  enemies  to  fear.  This  man,  she  told  them,  was  an 
unhappy  wanderer,  whom  it  was  a  duty  to  cherish,  for 
the  poor  and  stranger  are  from  Jove.  She  bade  them 
bring  food  and  clothing,  for  some  of  her  brother’s 
garments  were  among  the  contents  of  the  wagon.  When 
this  was  done,  and  Ulysses,  retiring  to  a  sheltered  place, 
had  washed  his  body  free  from  the  sea-foam,  clothed 
and  refreshed  himself  with  food,  Pallas  dilated  his  form 
and  diffused  grace  over  his  ample  chest  and  manly 
brows. 

The  princess,  seeing  him,  was  filled  with  admiration, 
and  scrupled  not  to  say  to  her  damsels  that  she  wished 
the  gods  would  send  her  such  a  husband.  To  Ulysses 
she  recommended  that  he  should  repair  to  the  city,  fol¬ 
lowing  herself  and  train  so  far  as  the  way  lay  through 
the  fields ;  but  when  they  should  approach  the  city  she 
desired  that  he  would  no  longer  be  seen  in  her  com¬ 
pany,  for  she  feared  the  remarks  which  rude  and  vulgar 
people  might  make  on  seeing  her  return  accompanied 
by  such  a  gallant  stranger.  To  avoid  which  she  directed 
him  to  stop  at  a  grove  adjoining  the  city,  in  which  were 
a  farm  and  garden  belonging  to  the  king.  After  al- 


250  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


lowing  time  for  the  princess  and  her  companions  to 
reach  the  city,  he  was  then  to  pursue  his  way  thither, 
and  would  be  easily  guided  by  any  he  might  meet  to 
the  royal  abode. 

Ulysses  obeyed  the  directions  and  in  due  time  pro¬ 
ceeded  to  the  city,  on  approaching  which  he  met  a 
young  woman  bearing  a  pitcher  forth  for  water.  It 
was  Minerva,  who  had  assumed  that  form.  Ulysses  ac¬ 
costed  her  and  desired  to  be  directed  to  the  palace  of 
Alcinoiis  the  king.  The  maiden  replied  respectfully, 
offering  to  be  his  guide;  for  the  palace,  she  informed 
him,  stood  near  her  father’s  dwelling.  Under  the 
guidance  of  the  goddess,  and  by  her  power  enveloped 
in  a  cloud  which  shielded  him  from  observation,  Ulysses 
passed  among  the  busy  crowd,  and  with  wonder  ob¬ 
served  their  harbor,  their  ships,  their  forum  (the  resort 
of  heroes),  and  their  battlements,  till  they  came  to  the 
palace,  where  the  goddess,  having  first  given  him  some 
information  of  the  country,  king,  and  people  he  was 
about  to  meet,  left  him.  Ulysses,  before  entering  the 
courtyard  of  the  palace,  stood  and  surveyed  the  scene. 
Its  splendor  astonished  him.  Brazen  walls  stretched 
from  the  entrance  to  the  interior  house,  of  which  the 
'  doors  were  gold,  the  doorposts  silver,  the  lintels  silver 
ornamented  with  gold.  On  either  side  were  figures  of 
mastiffs  wrought  in  gold  and  silver,  standing  in  rows  as 
if  to  guard  the  approach.  Along  the  walls  were  seats 
spread  through  all  their  length  with  mantles  of  finest 
texture,  the  work  of  Phaeacian  maidens.  On  these  seats 
the  princes  sat  and  feasted,  while  golden  statues  of 
graceful  youths  held  in  their  hands  lighted  torches  which 
shed  radiance  over  the  scene.  Full  fifty  female  menials 
served  in  household  offices,  some  employed  to  grind  the 
corn,  others  to  wind  off  the  purple  wool  or  ply  the 
loom.  For  the  Phaeacian  women  as  far  exceeded  all  other 
women  in  household  arts  as  the  mariners  of  that  coun¬ 
try  did  the  rest  of  mankind  in  the  management  of  ships. 
Without  the  court  a  spacious  garden  lay,  four  acres  in 
extent.  In  it  grew  many  a  lofty  tree,  pomegranate, 
pear,  apple,  fig,  and  olive.  Neither  winter’s  cold  nor 
summer’s  drought  arrested  their  growth,  but  they  flour- 


THE  PHtEACIANS 


251 


ished  in  constant  succession,  some  budding  while  others 
were  maturing.  The  vineyard  was  equally  prolific.  In 
one  quarter  you  might  see  the  vines,  some  in  blossom, 
some  loaded  with  ripe  grapes,  and  in  another  observe 
the  vintagers  treading  the  wine  press.  On  the  garden’s 
borders  flowers  of  all  hues  bloomed  all  the  year  round, 
arranged  with  neatest  art.  In  the  midst  two  fountains 
poured  forth  their  waters,  one  flowing  by  artificial  chan¬ 
nels  over  all  the  garden,  the  other  conducted  through 
the  courtyard  of  the  palace,  whence  every  citizen  might 
draw  his  supplies. 

Ulysses  stood  gazing  in  admiration,  unobserved  him¬ 
self,  for  the  cloud  which  Minerva  spread  around  him 
still  shielded  him.  At  length,  having  sufficiently  ob¬ 
served  the  scene,  he  advanced  with  rapid  step  into  the 
hall  where  the  chiefs  and  senators  were  assembled,  pour¬ 
ing  libation  to  Mercury,  whose  worship  followed  the 
evening  meal.  Just  then  Minerva  dissolved  the  cloud 
and  disclosed  him  to  the  assembled  chiefs.  Advancing 
to  the  place  where  the  queen  sat,  he'  knelt  at  her  feet 
and  implored  her  favor  and  assistance  to  enable  him 
to  return  to  his  native  country.  Then  withdrawing,  he 
seated  himself  in  the  manner  of  suppliants,  at  the  hearth 
side. 

For  a  time  none  spoke.  At  last  an  aged  statesman, 
addressing  the  king,  said,  “It  is  not  fit  that  a  stranger 
who  asks  our  hospitality  should  be  kept  waiting  in  sup¬ 
pliant  guise,  none  welcoming  him.  Let  him  therefore 
be  led  to  a  seat  among  us  and  supplied  with  food  and 
wine.”  At  these  words  the  king  rising  gave  his  hand 
to  Ulysses  and  led  him  to  a  seat,  displacing  thence  his 
own  son  to  make  room  for  the  stranger.  Food  and 
wine  were  set  before  him  and  he  ate  and  refreshed  him¬ 
self. 

The  king  then  dismissed  his  guests,  notifying  them 
that  the  next  day  he  would  call  them  to  council  to  con¬ 
sider  what  had  best  be  done  for  the  stranger. 

When  the  guests  had  departed  and  Ulysses  was  left 
alone  with  the  king  and  queen,  the  queen  asked  him 
who  he  was  and  whence  he  came,  and  (recognizing  the 
clothes  which  he  wore  as  those  which  her  maidens  and 


252  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


herself  had  made)  from  whom  he  received  those  gar¬ 
ments.  He  told  them  of  his  residence  in  Calypso’s  isle 
and  his  departure  thence ;  of  the  wreck  of  his  raft,  his 
escape  by  swimming,  and  of  the  relief  afforded  by  the 
princess.  The  parents  heard  approvingly,  and  the  king 
promised  to  furnish  a  ship  in  which  his  guest  might  re¬ 
turn  to  his  own  land. 

The  next  day  the  assembled  chiefs  confirmed  the 
promise  of  the  king.  A  bark  was  prepared  and  a  crew 
of  stout  rowers  selected,  and  all  betook  themselves  to 
the  palace,  where  a  bounteous  repast  was  provided. 
After  the  feast  the  king  proposed  that  the  young  men 
should  show  their  guest  their  proficiency  in  manly 
sports,  and  all  went  forth  to  the  arena  for  games  of 
running,  wrestling,  and  other  exercises.  After  all  had 
done  their  best,  Ulysses  being  challenged  to  show  what 
he  could  do,  at  first  declined,  but  being  taunted  by  one 
of  the  youths,  seized  a  quoit  of  weight  far  heavier  than 
any  of  the  Phasacians  had  thrown,  and  sent  it  farther 
than  the  utmost  throw  of  theirs.  All  were  astonished, 
and  viewed  their  guest  with  greatly  increased  respect. 

After  the  games  they  returned  to  the  hall,  and  the 
herald  led  in  Demodocus,  the  blind  bard, — 

“.  .  .  Dear  to  the  Muse, 

Who  yet  appointed  him  both  good  and  ill, 

Took  from  him  sight,  but  gave  him  strains  divine.” 

He  took  for  his  theme  the  “Wooden  Horse,”  by  means 
of  which  the  Greeks  found  entrance  into  Troy.  Apollo 
inspired  him,  and  he  sang  so  feelingly  the  terrors  and 
the  exploits  of  that  eventful  time  that  all  were  de¬ 
lighted,  but  Ulysses  was  moved  to  tears.  Observing 
which,  Alcinoiis,  when  the  song  was  done,  demanded  of 
him  why  at  the  mention  of  Troy  his  sorrows  awaked. 
Had  he  lost  there  a  father,  or  brother,  or  any  dear 
friend?  Ulysses  replied  by  announcing  himself  by  his 
true  name,  and  at  their  request,  recounted  the  adven¬ 
tures  which  had  befallen  him  since  his  departure  from 
Troy.  This  narrative  raised  the  sympathy  and  admira¬ 
tion  of  the  Phseacians  for  their  guest  to  the  highest 
pitch.  The  king  proposed  that  all  the  chiefs  should 


THE  PHAEACIANS 


253 


present  him  with  a  gift,  himself  setting  the  example. 
They  obeyed,  and  vied  with  one  another  in  loading  the 
illustrious  stranger  with  costly  gifts. 

The  next  day  Ulysses  set  sail  in  the  Phseacian  ves¬ 
sel,  and  in  a  short  time  arrived  safe  at  Ithaca,  his  own 
island.  When  the  vessel  touched  the  strand  he  was 
asleep.  The  mariners,  without  waking  him,  carried 
him  on  shore,  and  landed  with  him  the  chest  containing 
his  presents,  and  then  sailed  away. 

Neptune  was  so  displeased  at  the  conduct  of  the 
Phaeacians  in  thus  rescuing  Ulysses  from  his  hands  that 
on  the  return  of  the  vessel  to  port  he  transformed  it  into 
a  rock,  right  opposite  the  mouth  of  the  harbor. 

Homer’s  description  of  the  ships  of  the  Phaeacians 
has  been  thought  to  look  like  an  anticipation  of  the 
wonders  of  modern  steam  navigation.  Alcinous  says  to 
Ulysses : 

“Say  from  what  city,  from  what  regions  tossed, 

And  what  inhabitants  those  regions  boast? 

So  shalt  thou  quickly  reach  the  realm  assigned, 

In  wondrous  ships,  self-moved,  instinct  with  mind; 

No  helm  secures  their  course,  no  pilot  guides; 

Like  man  intelligent  they  plough  the  tides, 

Conscious  of  every  coast  and  every  bay 
That  lies  beneath  the  sun’s  all-seeing  ray.” 

— Odyssey ,  Book  VIII. 

Lord  Carlisle,  in  his  “Diary  in  the  Turkish  and  Greek 
Waters,”  thus  speaks  of  Corfu,  which  he  considers  to 
be  the  ancient  Phaeacian  island: 

“The  sites  explain  the  ‘Odyssey.’  The  temple  of  the 
sea-god  could  not  have  been  more  fitly  placed,  upon  a 
grassy  platform  of  the  most  elastic  turf,  on  the  brow 
of  a  crag  commanding  harbor,  and  channel,  and  ocean. 
Just  at  the  entrance  of  the  inner  harbor  there  is  a  pic¬ 
turesque  rock  with  a  small  convent  perched  upon  it, 
which  by  one  legend  is  the  transformed  pinnace  of 
Ulysses. 

“Almost  the  only  river  in  the  island  is  just  at  the 
proper  distance  from  the  probable  site  of  the  city  and 
palace  of  the  king,  to  justify  the  princess  Nausicaa 


254  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


having  had  resort  to  her  chariot  and  to  luncheon  when 
she  went  with  the  maidens  of  the  court  to  wash  their 
garments.” 

FATE  OF  THE  SUITORS 

Ulysses  had  now  been  away  from  Ithaca  for  twenty 
years,  and  when  he  awoke  he  did  not  recognize  his  na¬ 
tive  land.  Minerva  appeared  to  him  in  the  form  of  a 
young  shepherd,  informed  him  where  he  was,  and  told 
him  the  state  of  things  at  his  palace.  More  than  a  hun¬ 
dred  nobles  of  Ithaca  and  of  the  neighboring  islands 
had  been  for  years  suing  for  the  hand  of  Penelope,  his 
wife,  imagining  him  dead,  and  lording  it  over  his  palace 
and  people,  as  if  they  were  owners  of  both.  That  he 
might  be  able  to  take  vengeance  upon  them,  it  was  im¬ 
portant  that  he  should  not  be  recognized.  Minerva  ac¬ 
cordingly  metamorphosed  him  into  an  unsightly  beggar, 
and  as  such  he  was  kindly  received  by  Eumseus,  the 
swine-herd,  a  faithful  servant  of  his  house. 

Telemachus,  his  son,  was  absent  in  quest  of  his  father. 
He  had  gone  to  the  courts  of  the  other  kings,  who  had 
returned  from  the  Trojan  expedition.  While  on  the 
search,  he  received  counsel  from  Minerva  to  return 
home.  He  arrived  and  sought  Eumseus  to  learn  some¬ 
thing  of  the  state  of  affairs  at  the  palace  before  present¬ 
ing  himself  among  the  suitors.  Finding  a  stranger  with 
Eumseus,  he  treated  him  courteously,  though  in  the  garb 
of  a  beggar,  and  promised  him  assistance.  Eumseus  was 
sent  to  the  palace  to  inform  Penelope  privately  of  her 
son’s  arrival,  for  caution  was  necessary  with  regard  to 
the  suitors,  who,  as  Telemachus  had  learned,  were  plot¬ 
ting  to  intercept  and  kill  him.  When  Eumseus  was  gone, 
Minerva  presented  herself  to  Ulysses,  and  directed  him 
to  make  himself  known  to  his  son.  At  the  same  time 
she  touched  him,  removed  at  once  from  him  the  ap¬ 
pearance  of  age  and  penury,  and  gave  him  the  aspect  of 
vigorous  manhood  that  belonged  to  him.  Telemachus 
^viewed  him  with  astonishment,  and  at  first  thought  he 
must  be  more  than  mortal.  But  Ulysses  announced  him¬ 
self  as  his  father,  and  accounted  for  the  change  of  ap¬ 
pearance  by  explaining  that  it  was  Minerva’s  doing. 


k 


FATE  OF  THE  SUITORS  255 

**.  .  .  Then  threw  Telemachus 
His  arms  around  his  father’s  neck  and  wept. 

Desire  intense  of  lamentation  seized 
On  both;  soft  murmurs  uttering,  each  indulged 
His  grief.” 

The  father  and  son  took  counsel  together  how  they 
should  get  the  better  of  the  suitors  and  punish  them  for 
their  outrages.  It  was  arranged  that  Telemachus  should 
proceed  to  the  palace  and  mingle  with  the  suitors  as 
formerly;  that  Ulysses  should  also  go  as  a  beggar,  a 
character  which  in  the  rude  old  times  had  different  privi¬ 
leges  from  what  we  concede  to  it  now.  As  traveller 
and  storyteller,  the  beggar  was  admitted  in  the  halls  of 
chieftains,  and  often  treated  like  a  guest;  though  some¬ 
times,  also,  no  doubt,  with  contumely.  Ulysses  charged 
his  son  not  to  betray,  by  any  display  of  unusual  interest 
in  him,  that  he  knew  him  to  be  other  than  he  seemed, 
and  even  if  he  saw  him  insulted,  or  beaten,  not  to  in¬ 
terpose  otherwise  than  he  might  do  for  any  stranger. 
At  the  palace  they  found  the  usual  scene  of  feasting  and 
riot  going  on.  The  suitors  pretended  to  receive  Telem¬ 
achus  with  joy  at  his  return,  though  secretly  mortified 
at  the  failure  of  their  plots  to  take  his  life.  The  old 
beggar  was  permitted  to  enter,  and  provided  with  a 
portion  from  the  table.  A  touching  incident  occurred  as 
Ulysses  entered  the  courtyard  of  the  palace.  An  old 
dog  lay  in  the  yard  almost  dead  with  age,  and  seeing  a 
stranger  enter,  raised  his  head,  with  ears  erect.  It  was 
Argus,  Ulysses’  own  dog,  that  he  had  in  other  days  often 
led  to  the  chase. 

“.  .  .  Soon  as  he  perceived 
Long-lost  Ulysses  nigh,  down  fell  his  ears 
Clapped  close,  and  with  his  tail  glad  sign  he  gave 
Of  gratulation,  impotent  to  rise, 

And  to  approach  his  master  as  of  old. 

Ulysses,  noting  him,  wiped  off  a  tear 
Unmarked. 

.  .  .  Then  his  destiny  released 

Old  Argus,  soon  as  he  had  lived  to  see 

Ulysses  in  the  twentieth  year  restored.” 

As  Ulysses  sat  eating  his  portion  in  the  hall,  the 


256  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


suitors  began  to  exhibit  their  insolence  to  him.  When 
he  mildly  remonstrated,  one  of  them  raised  a  stool  and 
with  it  gave  him  a  blow.  Telemachus  had  hard  work 
to  restrain  his  indignation  at  seeing  his  father  so  treated 
in  his  own  hall,  but  remembering  his  father’s  injunctions, 
said  no  more  than  what  became  him  as  master  of  the 
house,  though  young,  and  protector  of  his  guests. 

Penelope  had  protracted  her  decision  in  favor  of 
either  of  her  suitors  so  long  that  there  seemed  to  be 
no  further  pretence  for  delay.  The  continued  absence 
of  her  husband  seemed  to  prove  that  his  return  was  no 
longer  to  be  expected.  Meanwhile  her  son  had  grown 
up,  and  was  able  to  manage  his  own  affairs.  She  there¬ 
fore  consented  to  submit  the  question  of  her  choice  to 
a  trial  of  skill  among  the  suitors.  The  test  selected 
was  shooting  with  the  bow.  Twelve  rings  were  ar¬ 
ranged  in  a  line,  and  he  whose  arrow  was  sent  through 
the  whole  twelve  was  to  have  the  queen  for  his  prize. 
A  bow  that  one  of  his  brother  heroes  had  given  to 
Ulysses  in  former  times  was  brought  from  the  armory, 
and  with  its  quiver  full  of  arrows  was  laid  in  the  hall. 
Telemachus  had  taken  care  that  all  other  weapons  should 
be  removed,  under  pretence  that  in  the  heat  of  compe¬ 
tition  there  was  danger,  in  some  rash  moment,  of  put¬ 
ting  them  to  an  improper  use. 

All  things  being  prepared  for  the  trial,  the  first  thing 
to  be  done  was  to  bend  the  bow  in  order  to  attach  the 
string.  Telemachus  endeavored  to  do  it,  but  found  all 
his  efforts  fruitless;  and  modestly  confessing  that  he 
had  attempted  a  task  beyond  his  strength,  he  yielded  the 
bow  to  another.  He  tried  it  with  no  better  success,  and, 
amidst  the  laughter  and  jeers  of  his  companions,  gave  it 
up.  Another  tried  it  and  another;  they  rubbed  the  bow 
with  tallow,  but  all  to  no  purpose;  it  would  not  bend. 
Then  spoke  Ulysses,  humbly  suggesting  that  he  should 
be  permitted  to  try;  for,  said  he,  ‘‘beggar  as  I  am,  I 
was  once  a  soldier,  and  there  is  still  some  strength  in 
these  old  limbs  of  mine.”  The  suitors  hooted  with  de¬ 
rision,  and  commanded  to  turn  him  out  of  the  hall  for 
his  insolence.  But  Telemachus  spoke  up  for  him,  and, 
merely  to  gratify  the  old  man,  bade  him  try.  Ulysses 


FATE  OF  THE  SUITORS 


257 


took  the  bow,  and  handled  it  with  the  hand  of  a  master. 
With  ease  he  adjusted  the  cord  to  its  notch,  then  fitting 
an  arrow  to  the  bow  he  drew  the  string  and  sped  the 
arrow  unerring  through  the  rings. 

Without  allowing  them  time  to  express  their  aston¬ 
ishment,  he  said,  “Now  for  another  mark!”  and  aimed 
direct  at  the  most  insolent  one  of  the  suitors.  The 
arrow  pierced  through  his  throat  and  he  fell  dead. 
Telemachus,  Eumseus,  and  another  faithful  follower, 
well  armed,  now  sprang  to  the  side  of  Ulysses.  The 
suitors,  in  amazement,  looked  round  for  arms,  but  found 
none,  neither  was  there  any  way  of  escape,  for  Eumseus 
had  secured  the  door.  Ulysses  left  them  not  long  in 
uncertainty;  he  announced  himself  as  the  long-lost  chief, 
whose  house  they  had  invaded,  whose  substance  they 
had  squandered,  whose  wife  and  son  they  had  perse¬ 
cuted  for  ten  long  years;  and  told  them  he  meant  to 
have  ample  vengeance.  All  were  slain,  and  Ulysses  was 
left  master  of  his  palace  and  possessor  of  his  kingdom 
and  his  wife. 

Tennyson’s  poem  of  “Ulysses”  represents  the  old 
hero,  after  his  dangers  past  and  nothing  left  but  to  stay 
at  home  and  be  happy,  growing  tired  of  inaction  and 
resolving  to  set  forth  again  in  quest  of  new  adventures: 

“.  .  .  Come,  my  friends, 

’Tis  not  too  late  to  seek  a  newer  world. 

Push  off,  and  sitting  well  in  order  smite 
The  sounding  furrows;  for  my  purpose  holds 
To  sail  beyond  the  sunset,  and  the  baths 
Of  all  the  western  stars,  until  I  die. 

It  may  be  that  the  gulfs  will  wash  us  down; 

It  may  be  we  shall  touch  the  Happy  Isles, 

And  see  the  great  Achilles  whom  we  knew ;”  etc. 


258  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

ADVENTURES  OF  ^FNEAS - THE  HARPIES — DIDO - 

PALINURUS 

ADVENTURES  OF  AiNEAS 

We  have  followed  one  of  the  Grecian  heroes,  Ulysses, 
in  his  wanderings  on  his  return  home  from  Troy,  and 
now  we  propose  to  share  the  fortunes  of  the  remnant 
of  the  conquered  people,  under  their  chief  ^Eneas,  in 
their  search  for  a  new  home,  after  the  ruin  of  their  na¬ 
tive  city.  On  that  fatal  night  when  the  wooden  horse 
disgorged  its  contents  of  armed  men,  and  the  capture 
and  conflagration  of  the  city  were  the  result,  ^Eneas 
made  his  escape  from  the  scene  of  destruction,  with 
his  father,  and  his  wife,  and  young  son.  The  father, 
Anchises,  was  too  old  to  walk  with  the  speed  required, 
and  /Eneas  took  him  upon  his  shoulders.  Thus  bur¬ 
dened,  leading  his  son  and  followed  by  his  wife,  he 
made  the  best  of  his  way  out  of  the  burning  city;  but, 
in  the  confusion,  his  wife  was  swept  away  and  lost. 

On  arriving  at  the  place  of  rendezvous,  numerous 
fugitives,  of  both  sexes,  were  found,  who  put  them¬ 
selves  under  the  guidance  of  /Eneas.  Some  months 
were  spent  in  preparation,  and  at  length  they  embarked. 
They  first  landed  on  the  neighboring  shores  of  Thrace, 
and  were  preparing  to  build  a  city,  but  ^Eneas  was 
deterred  by  a  prodigy.  Preparing  to  offer  sacrifice,  he 
tore  some  twigs  from  one  of  the  bushes.  To  his  dis¬ 
may  the  wounded  part  dropped  blood.  When  he  re¬ 
peated  the  act  a  voice  from  the  ground  cried  out  to 
him,  “Spare  me,  Hineas;  I  am  your  kinsman,  Polydore, 
here  murdered  with  many  arrows,  from  which  a  bush 
has  grown,  nourished  with  my  blood.”  These  words 
recalled  to  the  recollection  of  /Eneas  that  Polydore  was 
a  young  prince  of  Troy,  whom  his  father  had  sent  with 
ample  treasures  to  the  neighboring  land  of  Thrace,  to 
be  there  brought  up,  at  a  distance  from  the  horrors  of 
war.  The  king  to  whom  he  was  sent  had  murdered 


ADVENTURES  OF  TINEAS 


259 


him  and  seized  his  treasures.  ^Eneas  and  his  compan¬ 
ions,  considering  the  land  accursed  by  the  stain  of  such 
a  crime,  hastened  away. 

They  next  landed  on  the  island  of  Delos,  which  was 
once  a  floating  island,  till  Jupiter  fastened  it  by  adaman¬ 
tine  chains  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  Apollo  and  Diana 
were  born  there,  and  the  island  was  sacred  to  Apollo. 
Here  ^Eneas  consulted  the  oracle  of  Apollo,  and  re¬ 
ceived  an  answer,  ambiguous  as  usual, — “Seek  your  an¬ 
cient  mother;  there  the  race  of  iEneas  shall  dwell,  and 
reduce  all  other  nations  to  their  sway/’  The  Trojans 
heard  with  joy  and  immediately  began  to  ask  one  an¬ 
other,  “Where  is  the  spot  intended  by  the  oracle  ?” 
Anchises  remembered  that  there  was  a  tradition  that 
their  forefathers  came  from  Crete  and  thither  they  re¬ 
solved  to  steer.  They  arrived  at  Crete  and  began  to 
build  their  city,  but  sickness  broke  out  among  them, 
and  the  fields  that  they  had  planted  failed  to  yield  a 
crop.  In  this  gloomy  aspect  of  affairs  zEneas  was 
warned  in  a  dream  to  leave  the  country  and  seek  a 
western  land,  called  Hesperia,  whence  Dardanus,  the 
true  founder  of  the  Trojan  race,  had  originally  mi¬ 
grated.  To  Hesperia,  now  called  Italy,  therefore,  they 
directed  their  future  course,  and  not  till  after  many 
adventures  and  the  lapse  of  time  sufficient  to  carry  a 
modern  navigator  several  times  round  the  world,  did 
they  arrive  there. 

Their  first  landing  was  at  the  island  of  the  Harpies. 
These  were  disgusting  birds  with  the  heads  of  maidens, 
with  long  claws  and  faces  pale  with  hunger.  They  were 
sent  by  the  gods  to  torment  a  certain  Phineus,  whom 
Jupiter  had  deprived  of  his  sight,  in  punishment  of  his 
cruelty;  and  whenever  a  meal  was  placed  before  him 
the  Harpies  darted  down  from  the  air  and  carried  it 
off.  They  were  driven  away  from  Phineus  by  the 
heroes  of  the  Argonautic  expedition,  and  took  refuge 
in  the  island  where  iEneas  now  found  them. 

When  they  entered  the  port  the  Trojans  saw  herds 
of  cattle  roaming  over  the  plain.  They  slew  as  many 
as  they  wished  and  prepared  for  a  feast.  But  no  sooner 
had  they  seated  themselves  at  the  table  than  a  horrible 


260  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


clamor  was  heard  in  the  air,  and  a  flock  of  these  odious 
harpies  came  rushing  down  upon  them,  seizing  in  their 
talons  the  meat  from  the  dishes  and  flying  away  with 
it.  .Eneas  and  his  companions  drew  their  swords  and 
dealt  vigorous  blows  among  the  monsters,  but  to  no  pur¬ 
pose,  for  they  were  so  nimble  it  was  almost  impossible 
to  hit  them,  and  their  feathers  were  like  armor  im¬ 
penetrable  to  steel.  One  of  them,  perched  on  a  neigh¬ 
boring  cliff,  screamed  out,  “Is  it  thus,  Trojans,  you  treat 
us  innocent  birds,  first  slaughter  our  cattle  and  then 
make  war  on  ourselves?”  She  then  predicted  dire  suf¬ 
ferings  to  them  in  their  future  course,  and  having  vented 
her  wrath  flew  away.  The  Trojans  made  haste  to  leave 
the  country,  and  next  found  themselves  coasting  along 
the  shore  of  Epirus.  Here  they  landed,  and  to  their 
astonishment  learned  that  certain  Trojan  exiles,  who 
had  been  carried  there  as  prisoners,  had  become  rulers 
of  the  country.  Andromache,  the  widow  of  Hector,  be¬ 
came  the  wife  of  one  of  the  victorious  Grecian  chiefs, 
to  whom  she  bore  a  son.  Her  husband  dying,  she  was 
left  regent  of  the  country,  as  guardian  of  her  son,  and 
had  married  a  fellow-captive,  Helenus,  of  the  royal  race 
of  Troy.  Helenus  and  Andromache  treated  the  exiles 
with  the  utmost  hospitality,  and  dismissed  them  loaded 
with  gifts. 

From  hence  Eneas  coasted  along  the  shore  of  Sicily 
and  passed  the  country  of  the  Cyclopes.  Here  they 
were  hailed  from  the  shore  by  a  miserable  object,  whom 
by  his  garments,  tattered  as  they  were,  they  perceived 
to  be  a  Greek.  He  told  them  he  was  one  of  Ulysses’s 
companions,  left  behind  by  that  chief  in  his  hurried 
departure.  He  related  the  story  of  Ulysses’s  adventure 
with  Polyphemus,  and  besought  them  to  take  him  off 
with  them  as  he  had  no  means  of  sustaining  his  ex¬ 
istence  where  he  was  but  wild  berries  and  roots,  and 
lived  in  constant  fear  of  the  Cyclopes.  While  he  spoke 
Polyphemus  made  his  appearance;  a  terrible  monster, 
shapeless,  vast,  whose  only  eye  had  been  put  out.1  He 
walked  with  cautious  steps,  feeling  his  way  with  a  staff, 
down  to  the  sea-side,  to  wash  his  eye-socket  in  the 

1  See  Proverbial  Expressions. 


ADVENTURES  OF  /ENEAS 


261 


waves.  When  he  reached  the  water,  he  waded  out 
towards  them,  and  his  immense  height  enabled  him  to 
advance  far  into  the  sea,  so  that  the  Trojans,  in  terror, 
took  to  their  oars  to  get  out  of  his  way.  Hearing  the 
oars,  Polyphemus  shouted  after  them,  so  that  the  shores 
resounded,  and  at  the  noise  the  other  Cyclopes  came 
forth  from  their  caves  and  woods  and  lined  the  shore,  i 
like  a  row  of  lofty  pine  trees.  The  Trojans  plied  their 
oars  and  soon  left  them  out  of  sight. 

Eneas  had  been  cautioned  by  Helenus  to  avoid  the 
strait  guarded  by  the  monsters  Scylla  and  Charybdis. 
There  Ulysses,  the  reader  will  remember,  had  lost  six 
of  his  men,  seized  by  Scylla  while  the  navigators  were 
wholly  intent  upon  avoiding  Charybdis.  Eneas,  fol¬ 
lowing  the  advice  of  Helenus,  shunned  the  dangerous 
pass  and  coasted  along  the  island  of  Sicily. 

Juno,  seeing  the  Trojans  speeding  their  way  prosper¬ 
ously  towards  their  destined  shore,  felt  her  old  grudge 
against  them  revive,  for  she  could  not  forget  the  slight 
that  Paris  had  put  upon  her,  in  awarding  "Lhe  prize  of 
beauty  to  another.  In  heavenly  minds  can  such  resent¬ 
ments  dwell  i1  Accordingly  she  hastened  to  Eolus,  the 
ruler  of  the  winds, — the  same  who  supplied  Ulysses 
with  favoring  gales,  giving  him  the  contrary  ones  tied 
up  in  a  bag.  Eolus  obeyed  the  goddess  and  sent  forth 
his  sons,  Boreas,  Typhon,  and  the  other  winds,  to  toss 
the  ocean.  A  terrible  storm  ensued  and  the  Trojan  ships 
were  driven  out  of  their  course  towards  the  coast  of 
Africa.  They  were  in  imminent  danger  of  being 
wrecked,  and  were  separated,  so  that  /Eneas  thought 
that  all  were  lost  except  his  own.  j 

At  this  crisis,  Neptune,  hearing  the  storm  raging,  and 
knowing  that  he  had  given  no  orders  for  one,  raised  his 
head  above  the  waves,  and  saw  the  fleet  of  .Eneas  driv¬ 
ing  before  the  gale.  Knowing  the  Hostility  of  Juno,  he 
was  at  no  loss  to  account  for  it,  but  his  anger  was  not 
the  less  at  this  interference  in  his  province.  He  called 
the  winds  and  dismissed  them  with  a  severe  reprimand. 
He  then  soothed  the  waves,  and  brushed  away  the  clouds 
from  before  the  face  of  the  sun.  Some  of  the  ships 

1  See  Proverbial  Expressions. 


262  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


\ 

which  had  got  on  the  rocks  he  pried  off  with  his  own 
trident,  while  Triton  and  a  sea-nymph,  putting  their 
shoulders  under  others,  set  them  afloat  again.  The  Tro¬ 
jans,  when  the  sea  became  calm,  sought  the  nearest 
shore,  which  was  the  coast  of  Carthage,  where  .Eneas 
was  so  happy  as  to  find  that  one  by  one  the  ships  all 
arrived  safe,  though  badly  shaken. 

Waller,  in  his  “Panegyric  to  the  Lord  Protector” 
(Cromwell),  alludes  to  this  stilling  of  the  storm  by 
Neptune : 

“Above  the  waves,  as  Neptune  showed  his  face, 

To  chide  the  winds  and  save  the  Trojan  race, 

So  has  your  Highness,  raised  above  the  rest, 

Storms  of  ambition  tossing  us  repressed." 

DIDO 

Carthage,  where  the  exiles  had  now  arrived,  was  a 
spot  on  the  coast  of  Africa  opposite  Sicily,  where  at 
that  time  a  Tyrian  colony  under  Dido,  their  queen,  were 
laying  the  foundations  of  a  state  destined  in  later  ages 
to  be  the  rival  of  Rome  itself.  Dido  was  the  daughter 
of  Belus,  king  of  Tyre,  and  sister  of  Pygmalion,  who 
succeeded  his  father  on  the  throne.  Her  husband  was 
Sichaeus,  a  man  of  immense  wealth,  but  Pygmalion, 
who  coveted  his  treasures,  caused  him  to  be  put  to  death. 
Dido,  with  a  numerous  body  of  friends  and  followers, 
both  men  and  women,  succeeded  in  effecting  their  escape 
from  Tyre,  in  several  vessels,  carrying  with  them  the 
treasures  of  Sichaeus.  On  arriving  at  the  spot  which  they 
selected  as  the  seat  of  their  future  home,  they  asked  of 
the  natives  only  so  much  land  as  they  could  enclose  with 
a  bull's  hide.  When  this  was  readily  granted,  she  caused 
the  hide  to  be  cut  into  strips,  and  with  them  enclosed  a 
spot  on  which  she  built  a  citadel,  and  called  it  Byrsa  (a 
hide).  Around  this  fort  the  city  of  Carthage  rose,  and 
soon  became  a  powerful  and  flourishing  place. 

Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  when  Eneas  with  his 
Trojans  arrived  there.  Dido  received  the  illustrious 
exiles  with  friendliness  and  hospitality.  “Not  unac- 


DIDO 


263 


quainted  with  distress,”  she  said,  “I  have  learned  to 
succor  the  unfortunate.”1  The  queen’s  hospitality  dis¬ 
played  itself  in  festivities  at  which  games  of  strength 
and  skill  were  exhibited.  The  strangers  contended  for 
the  palm  with  her  own  subjects,  on  equal  terms,  the 
queen  declaring  that  whether  the  victor  were  “Trojan  or 
Tyrian  should  make  no  difference  to  her.”1  At  the  feast 
which  followed  the  games,  ^Eneas  gave  at  her  request 
a  recital  of  the  closing  events  of  the  Trojan  history  and 
his  own  adventures  after  the  fall  of  the  city.  Dido  was 
charmed  with  his  discourse  and  filled  with  admiration 
of  his  exploits.  She  conceived  an  ardent  passion  for 
him,  and  he  for  his  part  seemed  well  content  to  accept 
the  fortunate  chance  which  appeared  to  offer  him  at 
once  a  happy  termination  of  his  wanderings,  a  home,  a 
kingdom,  and  a  bride.  Months  rolled  away  in  the  en¬ 
joyment  of  pleasant  intercourse,  and  it  seemed  as  if 
Italy  and  the  empire  destined  to  be  founded  on  its  shores 
were  alike  forgotten.  Seeing  which,  Jupiter  despatched 
Mercury  with  a  message  to  .Eneas  recalling  him  to  a 
sense  of  his  high  destiny,  and  commanding  him  to  re¬ 
sume  his  voyage. 

.Eneas  parted  from  Dido,  though  she  tried  every  al¬ 
lurement  and  persuasion  to  detain  him.  The  blow  to 
her  affection  and  her  pride  was  too  much  for  her  to 
endure,  and  when  she  found  that  he  was  gone,  she 
mounted  a  funeral  pile  which  she  had  caused  to  be 
erected,  and  having  stabbed  herself  was  consumed  with 
the  pile.  The  flames  rising  over  the  city  were  seen  by 
the  departing  Trojans,  and,  though  the  cause  was  un¬ 
known,  gave  to  .Eneas  some  intimation  of  the  fatal 
event. 


The  following  epigram  we  find  in 
tracts” : 


From  the  Latin 


“Elegant  Ex* 


"Unhappy,  Dido,  was  thy  fate 
In  first  and  second  married  state ! 

One  husband  caused  thy  flight  by  dying, 
Thy  death  the  other  caused  by  flying.” 

1  See  Proverbial  Expressions. 


264  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


PALINURUS 

After  touching  at  the  island  of  Sicily,  where  Acestes, 
a  prince  of  Trojan  lineage,  bore  sway,  who  gave  them 
a  hospitable  reception,  the  Trojans  reembarked,  and 
held  on  their  course  for  Italy.  Venus  now  interceded 
with  Neptune  to  allow  her  son  at  last  to  attain  the 
wished-for  goal  and  find  an  end  of  his  perils  on  the 
deep.  Neptune  consented,  stipulating  only  for  one  life 
as  a  ransom  for  the  rest.  The  victim  was  Palinurus, 
the  pilot.  As  he  sat  watching  the  stars,  with  his  hand 
on  the  helm,  Somnus  sent  by  Neptune  approached  in 
the  guise  of  Phorbas  and  said:  “Palinurus,  the  breeze 
is  fair,  the  water  smooth,  and  the  ship  sails  steadily  on 
her  course.  Lie  down  awhile  and  take  needful  rest. 
I  will  stand  at  the  helm  in  your  place.”  Palinurus  re¬ 
plied,  “Tell  me  not  of  smooth  seas  or  favoring  winds, 
— me  who  have  seen  so  much  of  their  treachery.  Shall 
I  trust  iEneas  to  the  chances  of  the  weather  and  the 
winds?”  And  he  continued  to  grasp  the  helm  and  to 
keep  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  stars.  But  Somnus  waved 
over  him  a  branch  moistened  wtih  Lethsean  dew,  and 
his  eyes  closed  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts.  Then  Somnus 
pushed  him  overboard  and  he  fell;  but  keeping  his  hold 
upon  the  helm,  it  came  away  with  him.  Neptune  was 
mindful  of  his  promise  and  kept  the  ship  on  her  track 
without  helm  or  pilot,  till  Hineas  discovered  his  loss, 
and,  sorrowing  deeply  for  his  faithful  steersman,  took 
charge  of  the  ship  himself. 

There  is  a  beautiful  allusion  to  the  story  of  Palinurus 
in  Scott’s  “Marmion,”  Introduction  to  Canto  I.,  where 
the  poet,  speaking  of  the  recent  death  of  William  Pitt, 
says : 

“O,  think  how,  to  his  latest  day, 

When  death  just  hovering  claimed  his  prey, 

With  Palinure’s  unaltered  mood, 

Firm  at  his  dangerous  post  he  stood; 

Each  call  for  needful  rest  repelled, 

With  dying  hand  the  rudder  held, 

Till  in  his  fall,  with  fateful  sway, 

The  steerage  of  the  realm  gave  way.” 


PALINURUS 


265 


The  ships  at  last  reached  the  shores  of  Italy,  and  joy¬ 
fully  did  the  adventurers  leap  to  land.  While  his  people 
were  employed  in  making  their  encampment  ^neas 
sought  the  abode  of  the  Sibyl.  It  was  a  cave  connected 
with  a  temple  and  grove,  sacred  to  Apollo  and  Diana. 
While  ZEneas  contemplated  the  scene,  the  Sibyl  accosted 
him.  She  seemed  to  know  his  errand,  and  under  the 
influence  of  the  deity  of  the  place,  burst  forth  in  a  pro¬ 
phetic  strain,  giving  dark  intimations  of  labors  and  perils 
through  which  he  was  destined  to  make  his  way  to 
final  success.  She  closed  with  the  encouraging  words 
which  have  become  proverbial:  “Yield  not  to  disasters, 
but  press  onward  the  more  bravely.”1  .ZEneas  replied 
that  he  had  prepared  himself  for  whatever  might  await 
him.  He  had  but  one  request  to  make.  Having  been 
directed  in  a  dream  to  seek  the  abode  of  the  dead  in 
order  to  confer  with  his  father,  Anchises,  to  receive 
from  him  a  revelation  of  his  future  fortunes  and  those 
of  his  race,  he  asked  her  assistance  to  enable  him  to  ac¬ 
complish  the  task.  The  Sibyl  replied,  “The  descent  to 
Avernus  is  easy:  the  gate  of  Pluto  stands  open  night 
and  day;  but  to  retrace  one’s  steps  and  return  to  the 
upper  air,  that  is  the  toil,  that  the  difficulty.”1  She  in¬ 
structed  him  to  seek  in  the  forest  a  tree  on  which  grew 
a  golden  branch.  This  branch  was  to  be  plucked  off 
and  borne  as  a  gift  to  Proserpine,  and  if  fate  was  pro¬ 
pitious  it  would  yield  to  the  hand  and  quit  its  parent 
trunk,  but  otherwise  no  force  could  rend  it  away.  If 
torn  away,  another  would  succeed.1 

HZneas  followed  the  directions  of  the  Sibyl.  His 
mother,  Venus,  sent  two  of  her  doves  to  fly  before  him 
and  show  him  the  way,  and  by  thei.  assistance  he  found 
the  tree,  plucked  the  branch,  and  hastened  back  with  it 
to  the  Sibyl. 


J  See  Proverbial  Expressions. 


266  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE  INFERNAL  REGIONS - THE  SIBYL 

THE  INFERNAL  REGIONS 

As  at  the  commencement  of  our  series  we  have  given 
the  pagan  account  of  the  creation  of  the  world,  so  as 
we  approach  its  conclusion  we  present  a  view  of  the 
regions  of  the  dead,  depicted  by  one  of  their  most  en¬ 
lightened  poets,  who  drew  his  doctrines  from  their  most 
esteemed  philosophers.  The  region  where  Virgil  locates 
the  entrance  to  this  abode  is  perhaps  the  most  strikingly 
adapted  to  excite  ideas  of  the  terrific  and  preternatural 
of  any  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  It  is  the  volcanic 
region  near  Vesuvius,  where  the  whole  country  is  cleft 
with  chasms,  from  which  sulphurous  flames  arise,  while 
the  ground  is  shaken  with  pent-up  vapors,  and  mysteri¬ 
ous  sounds  issue  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  The 
lake  Avernus  is  supposed  to  fill  the  crater  of  an  ex¬ 
tinct  volcano.  It  is  circular,  half  a  mile  wide,  and  very 
deep,  surrounded  by  high  banks,  which  in  Virgil's  time 
were  covered  with  a  gloomy  forest.  Mephitic  vapors 
rise  from  its  waters,  so  that  no  life  is  found  on  its  banks, 
and  no  birds  fly  over  it.  Here,  according  to  the  poet, 
was  the  cave  which  afforded  access  to  the  infernal  re¬ 
gions,  and  here  yEneas  offered  sacrifices  to  the  infernal 
deities,  Proserpine,  Hecate,  and  the  Furies.  Then  a 
roaring  was  heard  in  the  earth,  the  woods  on  the  hill¬ 
tops  were  shaken,  and  the  howling  of  dogs  announced 
the  approach  of  the  deities.  “Now,"  said  the  Sibyl, 
“summon  up  your  courage,  for  you  will  need  it.”  She 
descended  into  the  cave,  and  ^Eneas  followed.  Before 
the  threshold  of  hell  they  passed  through  a  group  of 
beings  who  are  enumerated  as  Griefs  and  avenging 
Cares,  pale  Diseases  and  melancholy  Age,  Fear  and 
Hunger  that  tempt  to  crime,  Toil,  Poverty,  and  Death, — 
forms  horrible  to  view.  The  Furies  spread  their  couches 
there,  and  Discord,  whose  hair  was  of  vipers  tied  up 
with  a  bloody  fillet.  Here  also  were  the  monsters, 


THE  INFERNAL  REGIONS 


267 


Briareus,  with  his  hundred  arms,  Hydras  hissing,  and 
Chimseras  breathing  fire.  Tineas  shuddered  at  the  sight, 
drew  his  sword  and  would  have  struck,  but  the  Sibyl 
restrained  him.  They  then  came  to  the  black  river 
Cocytus,  where  they  found  the  ferryman,  Charon,  old 
and  squalid,  but  strong  and  vigorous,  who  was  receiving 
passengers  of  all  kinds  into  his  boat,  magnanimous 
heroes,  boys  and  unmarried  girls,  as  numerous  as  the 
leaves  that  fall  at  autumn,  or  the  flocks  that  fly  south¬ 
ward  at  the  approach  of  winter.  They  stood  pressing 
for  a  passage  and  longing  to  touch  the  opposite  shore. 
But  the  stern  ferryman  took  in  only  such  as  he  chose, 
driving  the  rest  back.  Tineas,  wondering  at  the  sight, 
asked  the  Sibyl,  “Why  this  discrimination?”  She  an¬ 
swered,  “Those  who  are  taken  on  board  the  bark  are  the 
souls  of  those  who  have  received  due  burial  rites;  the 
host  of  others  who  have  remained  unburied  are  not 
permitted  to  pass  the  flood,  but  wander  a  hundred  years, 
and  flit  to  and  fro  about  the  shore,  till  at  last  they  are 
taken  over.”  Tineas  grieved  at  recollecting  some  of 
his  own  companions  who  had  perished  in  the  storm.  At 
that  moment  he  beheld  Palinurus,  his  pilot,  who  fell 
overboard  and  was  drowned.  He  addressed  him  and 
asked  him  the  cause  of  his  misfortune.  Palinurus  re¬ 
plied  that  the  rudder  was  carried  away,  and  he,  clinging 
to  it,  was  swept  away  with  it.  He  besought  Tineas 
most  urgently  to  extend  to  him  his  hand  and  take  him 
in  company  to  the  opposite  shore.  But  the  Sibyl  re¬ 
buked  him  for  the  wish  thus  to  transgress  the  laws  of 
Pluto ;  but  consoled  him  by  informing  him  that  the  peo¬ 
ple  of  the  shore  where  his  body  had  been  wafted  by 
the  waves  should  be  stirred  up  by  prodigies  to  give  it 
due  burial,  and  that  the  promontory  should  bear  the 
name  of  Cape  Palinurus,  which  it  does  to  this  day. 
Leaving  Palinurus  consoled  by  these  words,  they  ap¬ 
proached  the  boat.  Charon,  fixing  his  eyes  sternly  upon 
the  advancing  warrior,  demanded  by  what  right  he,  liv¬ 
ing  and  armed,  approached  that  shore.  To  which  the 
Sibyl  replied  that  they  would  commit  no  violence,  that 
Tineas’s  only  object  was  to  see  his  father,  and  finally 
exhibited  the  golden  branch,  at  sight  of  which  Charon’s 


268  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


wrath  relaxed,  and  he  made  haste  to  turn  his  bark  to 
the  shore,  and  receive  them  on  board.  The  boat, 
adapted  only  to  the  light  freight  of  bodiless  spirits, 
groaned  under  the  weight  of  the  hero.  They  were  soon 
conveyed  to  the  opposite  shore.  There  they  were  en¬ 
countered  by  the  three-headed  dog,  Cerberus,  with  his 
necks  bristling  with  snakes.  He  barked  with  all  his 
three  throats  till  the  Sibyl  threw  him  a  medicated  cake 
which  he  eagerly  devoured,  and  then  stretched  himself 
out  in  his  den  and  fell  asleep.  .Eneas  and  the  Sibyl 
sprang  to  land.  The  first  sound  that  struck  their  ears 
was  the  wailing  of  young  children,  who  had  died  on  the 
threshold  of  life,  and  near  to  these  were  they  who  had 
perished  under  false  charges.  Minos  presides  over  them 
as  judge,  and  examines  the  deeds  of  each.  The  next 
class  was  of  those  who  had  died  by  their  own  hand,  hat¬ 
ing  life  and  seeking  refuge  in  death.  O  how  willingly 
would  they  now  endure  poverty,  labor,  and  any  other 
infliction,  if  they  might  but  return  to  life!  Next  were 
situated  the  regions  of  sadness,  divided  ofif  into  retired 
paths,  leading  through  groves  of  myrtle.  Here  roamed 
those  who  had  fallen  victims  to  unrequited  love,  not 
freed  from  pain  even  by  death  itself.  Among  these, 
HIneas  thought  he  descried  the  form  of  Dido,  with 
a  wound  still  recent.  In  the  dim  light  he  was  for  a  mo¬ 
ment  uncertain,  but  approaching,  perceived  it  was  indeed 
herself.  Tears  fell  from  his  eyes,  and  he  addressed  her 
in  the  accents  of  love.  “Unhappy  Dido !  was  then  the 
rumor  true  that  you  had  perished  ?  and  was  I,  alas !  the 
cause?  I  call  the  gods  to  witness  that  my  departure 
from  you  was  reluctant,  and  in  obedience  to  the  com¬ 
mands  of  Jove;  nor  could  I  believe  that  my  absence 
would  cost  you  so  dear.  Stop,  I  beseech  you,  and  refuse 
me  not  a  last  farewell; ”  She  stood  for  a  moment  with 
averted  countenance,  and  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground,  and 
then  silently  passed  on,  as  insensible  to  his  pleadings  as 
a  rock.  iEneas  followed  for  some  distance;  then,  with 
a  heavy  heart,  rejoined  his  companion  and  resumed  his 
route. 

They  next  entered  the  fields  where  roam  the  heroes 
who  have  fallen  in  battle.  Here  they  saw  many  shades 


THE  INFERNAL  REGIONS 


269 


of  Grecian  and  Trojan  warriors.  The  Trojans  thronged 
around  him,  and  could  not  be  satisfied  with  the  sight. 
They  asked  the  cause  of  his  coming,  and  plied  him  with 
innumerable  questions.  But  the  Greeks,  at  the  sight  of 
his  armor  glittering  through  the  murky  atmosphere,  rec¬ 
ognized  the  hero,  and  filled  with  terror  turned  their 
backs  and  fled,  as  they  used  to  do  on  the  plains  of  Troy. 

Tineas  would  have  lingered  long  with  his  Trojan 
friends,  but  the  Sibyl  hurried  him  away.  They  next 
came  to  a  place  where  the  road  divided,  the  one  leading 
to  Elysium,  the  other  to  the  regions  of  the  condemned. 
Tineas  beheld  on  one  side  the  walls  of  a  mighty  city, 
around  which  Phlegethon  rolled  its  fiery  waters.  Be¬ 
fore  him  was  the  gate  of  adamant  that  neither  gods  nor 
men  can  break  through.  An  iron  tower  stood  by  the 
gate,  on  which  Tisiphone,  the  avenging  Fury,  kept 
guard.  From  the  city  were  heard  groans,  and  the  sound 
of  the  scourge,  the  creaking  of  iron,  and  the  clanking 
of  chains.  Tineas,  horror-struck,  inquired  of  his  guide 
what  crimes  were  those  whose  punishments  produced 
the  sounds  he  heard?  The  Sibyl  answered,  “Here  is  the 
judgment  hall  of  Rhadamanthus,  who  brings  to  light 
crimes  done  in  life,  which  the  perpetrator  vainly  thought 
impenetrably  hid.  Tisiphone  applies  her  whip  of  scor¬ 
pions,  and  delivers  the  offender  over  to  her  sister 
Furies.”  At  this  moment  with  horrid  clang  the  brazen 
gates  unfolded,  and  Tineas  saw  within  a  Hydra  with 
fifty  heads  guarding  the  entrance.  The  Sibyl  told  him 
that  the  gulf  of  Tartarus  descended  deep,  so  that  its 
recesses  were  as  far  beneath  their  feet  as  heaven  was 
high  above  their  heads.  In  the  bottom  of  this  pit,  the 
Titan  race,  who  warred  against  the  gods,  lie  prostrate; 
Salmoneus,  also,  who  presumed  to  vie  with  Jupiter,  and 
built  a  bridge  of  brass  over  which  he  drove  his  chariot 
that  the  sound  might  resemble  thunder,  launching  flam¬ 
ing  brands  at  his  people  in  imitation  of  lightning,  till 
Jupiter  struck  him  with  a  real  thunderbolt,  and  taught 
him  the  difference  between  mortal  weapons  and  divine. 
Here,  also,  is  Tityus,  the  giant,  whose  form  is  so  im¬ 
mense  that  as  he  lies  he  stretches  over  nine  acres,  while 
a  vulture  preys  upon  his  liver,  which  as  fast  as  it  is 


270  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


devoured  grows  again,  so  that  his  punishment  will  have 
no  end. 

^Eneas  saw  groups  seated  at  tables  loaded  with  dain¬ 
ties,  while  near  by  stood  a  Fury  who  snatched  away  the 
viands  from  their  lips  as  fast  as  they  prepared  to  taste 
them.  Others  beheld  suspended  over  their  heads  huge 
rocks,  threatening  to  fall,  keeping  them  in  a  state  of 
constant  alarm.  These  were  they  who  had  hated  their 
brothers,  or  struck  their  parents,  or  defrauded  the 
friends  who  trusted  them,  or  who,  having  grown  rich, 
kept  their  money  to  themselves,  and  gave  no  share  to 
others;  the  last  being  the  most  numerous  class.  Here 
also  were  those  who  had  violated  the  marriage  vow,  or 
fought  in  a  bad  cause,  or  failed  in  fidelity  to  their  em¬ 
ployers.  Here  was  one  who  had  sold  his  country  for 
gold,  another  who  perverted  the  laws,  making  them  say 
one  thing  to-day  and  another  to-morrow. 

Ixion  was  there,  fastened  to  the  circumference  of  a 
wheel  ceaselessly  revolving;  and  Sisyphus,  whose  task 
was  to  roll  a  huge  stone  up  to  a  hill-top,  but  when  the 
steep  was  well-nigh  gained,  the  rock,  repulsed  by  some 
sudden  force,  rushed  again  headlong  down  to  the  plain. 
Again  he  toiled  at  it,  while  the  sweat  bathed  all  his 
weary  limbs,  but  all  to  no  effect.  There  was  Tantalus, 
who  stood  in  a  pool,  his  chin  level  with  the  water,  yet 
he  was  parched  with  thirst,  and  found  nothing  to  as¬ 
suage  it;  for  when  he  bowed  his  hoary  head,  eager  to 
quaff,  the  water  fled  away,  leaving  the  ground  at  his 
feet  all  dry.  Tall  trees  laden  with  fruit  stooped  their 
heads  to  him,  pears,  pomegranates,  apples,  and  luscious 
figs;  but  when  with  a  sudden  grasp  he  tried  to  seize 
them  winds  whirled  them  high  above  his  reach. 

The  Sibyl  now  warned  ^Eneas  that  was  time  to 
turn  from  these  melancholy  regions  and  seek  the  city  of 
the  blessed.  They  passed  through  a  middle  tract  of 
darkness,  and  came  upon  the  Elysian  fields,  the  groves 
where  the  happy  reside.  They  breathed  a  freer  air, 
and  saw  all  objects  clothed  in  a  purple  light.  The  re¬ 
gion  has  a  sun  and  stars  of  its  own.  The  inhabitants 
were  enjoying  themselves  in  various  ways,  some  in 
sports  on  the  grassy  turf,  in  games  of  strength  or  skill. 


THE  INFERNAL  REGIONS 


271 


others  dancing  or  singing.  Orpheus  struck  the  chords 
of  his  lyre,  and  called  forth  ravishing  sounds.  Here 
Eneas  saw  the  founders  of  the  Trojan  state,  magnani¬ 
mous  heroes  who  lived  in  happier  times.  He  gazed 
with  admiration  on  the  war  chariots  and  glittering  arms 
now  reposing  in  disuse.  Spears  stood  fixed  in  the 
ground,  and  the  horses,  unharnessed,  roamed  over  the 
plain.  The  same  pride  in  splendid  armor  and  generous 
steeds  which  the  old  heroes  felt  in  life,  accompanied 
them  here.  He  saw  another  group  feasting  and  listen¬ 
ing  to  the  strains  of  music.  They  were  in  a  laurel  grove, 
whence  the  great  river  Po  has  its  origin,  and  flows  out 
among  men.  Here  dwelt  those  who  fell  by  wounds  re¬ 
ceived  in  their  country’s  cause,  holy  priests  also,  and 
poets  who  have  uttered  thoughts  worthy  of  Apollo,  and 
others  who  have  contributed  to  cheer  and  adorn  life  by 
their  discoveries  in  the  useful  arts,  and  have  made  their 
memory  blessed  by  rendering  service  to  mankind.  They 
wore  snow-white  fillets  about  their  brows.  The  Sibyl 
addressed  a  group  of  these,  and  inquired  where  Anchises 
was  to  be  found.  They  were  directed  where  to  seek 
him,  and  soon  found  him  in  a  verdant  valley,  where  he 
was  contemplating  the  ranks  of  his  posterity,  their  des¬ 
tinies  and  worthy  deeds  to  be  achieved  in  coming  times. 
When  he  recognized  Eneas  approaching,  he  stretched 
out  both  hands  to  him,  while  tears  flowed  freely.  “Have 
you  come  at  last,”  said  he,  “long  expected,  and  do  I  be¬ 
hold  you  after  such  perils  past?  O  my  son,  how  have 
I  trembled  for  you  as  I  have  watched  your  career!” 
To  which  Eneas  replied,  “O  father!  your  image  was 
always  before  me  to  guide  and  guard  me.”  Then  he 
endeavored  to  enfold  his  father  in  his  embrace,  but  his 
arms  enclosed  only  an  unsubstantial  image. 

Eneas  perceived  before  him  a  spacious  valley,  with 
trees  gently  waving  to  the  wind,  a  tranquil  landscape, 
through  which  the  river  Lethe  flowed.  Along  the 
banks  of  the  stream  wandered  a  countless  multitude, 
numerous  as  insects  in  the  summer  air.  .Eneas,  with 
surprise,  inquired  who  were  these.  Anchises  answered, 
“They  are  souls  to  which  bodies  are  to  be  given  in  due 
time.  Meanwhile  they  dwell  on  Lethe’s  bank,  and  drink 


272  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


oblivion  of  their  former  lives.”  “O  father !”  said 
TEneas,  “is  it  possible  that  any  can  be  so  in  love  with 
life  as  to  wish  to  leave  these  tranquil  seats  for  the 
upper  world?”  Anchises  replied  by  explaining  the  plan 
of  creation.  The  Creator,  he  told  him,  originally  made 
the  material  of  which  souls  are  composed  of  the  four 
elements,  fire,  air,  earth,  and  water,  all  which  when 
united  took  the  form  of  the  most  excellent  part,  fire,  and 
became  flame.  This  material  was  scattered  like  seed 
among  the  heavenly  bodies,  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars. 
Of  this  seed  the  inferior  gods  created  man  and  all  other 
animals,  mingling  it  with  various  proportions  of  earth, 
by  which  its  purity  was  alloyed  and  reduced.  Thus,  the 
more  earth  predominates  in  the  composition  the  less  pure 
is  the  individual ;  and  we  see  men  and  women  with 
their  full-grown  bodies  have  not  the  purity  of  child¬ 
hood.  So  in  proportion  to  the  time  which  the  union  of 
body  and  soul  has  lasted  is  the  impurity  contracted  by 
the  spiritual  part.  This  impurity  must  be  purged  away 
after  death,  which  is  done  by  ventilating  the  souls  in 
the  current  of  winds,  or  merging  them  in  water,  or 
burning  out  their  impurities  by  fire.  Some  few,  of  whom 
Anchises  intimates  that  he  is  one,  are  admitted  at  once 
to  Elysium,  there  to  remain.  But  the  rest,  after  the 
impurities  of  earth  are  purged  away,  are  sent  back  to 
life  endowed  with  new  bodies,  having  had  the  remem¬ 
brance  of  their  former  lives  effectually  washed  away  by 
the  waters  of  Lethe.  Some,  however,  there  still  are,  so 
thoroughly  corrupted,  that  they  are  not  fit  to  be  in¬ 
trusted  with  human  bodies,  and  these  are  made  into 
brute  animals,  lions,  tigers,  cats,  dogs,  monkeys,  etc. 
This  is  what  the  ancients  called  Metempsychosis,  or  the 
transmigration  of  souls ;  a  doctrine  which  is  still  held  by 
the  natives  of  India,  who  scruple  to  destroy  the  life  even 
of  the  most  insignificant  animal,  not  knowing  but  it  may 
be  one  of  their  relations  in  an  altered  form. 

Anchises,  having  explained  so  much,  proceeded  to 
point  out  to  iEneas  individuals  of  his  race,  who  were 
hereafter  to  be  born,  and  to  relate  to  him  the  exploits 
they  should  perform  in  the  world.  After  this  he  re¬ 
verted  to  the  present,  and  told  his  son  of  the  events  that 


THE  CUMEAN  SIBYL. 

From  painting  by  Michael  Angelo.  Sistine  Chapel 


ELYSIUM 


273 


remained  to  him  to  be  accomplished  before  the  complete 
establishment  of  himself  and  his  followers  in  Italy. 
Wars  were  to  be  waged,  battles  fought,  a  bride  to  be 
won,  and  in  the  result  a  Trojan  state  founded,  from 
which  should  rise  the  Roman  power,  to  be  in  time  the 
sovereign  of  the  world. 

^Eneas  and  the  Sibyl  then  took  leave  of  Anchises,  and 
returned  by  some  short  cut,  which  the  poet  does  not 
explain,  to  the  upper  world. 

ELYSIUM 

Virgil,  we  have  seen,  places  his  Elysium  under  the 
earth,  and  assigns  it  for  a  residence  to  the  spirits  of 
the  blessed.  But  in  Homer  Elysium  forms  no  part  of 
the  realms  of  the  dead.  He  places  it  on  the  west  of  the 
earth,  near  Ocean,  and  describes  it  as  a  happy  land, 
where  there  is  neither  snow,  nor  cold,  nor  rain,  and 
always  fanned  by  the  delightful  breezes  of  Zephyrus. 
Hither  favored  heroes  pass  without  dying  and  live  happy 
under  the  rule  of  Rhadamanthus.  The  Elysium  of 
Hesiod  and  Pindar  is  in  the  Isles  of  the  Blessed,  or 
Fortunate  Islands,  in  the  Western  Ocean.  From  these 
sprang  the  legend  of  the  happy  island  Atlantis.  This 
blissful  region  may  have  been  wholly  imaginary,  but 
possibly  may  have  sprung  from  the  reports  of  some 
storm-driven  mariners  who  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
coast  of  America. 

J.  R.  Lowell,  in  one  of  his  shorter  poems,  claims  for 
the  present  age  some  of  the  privileges  of  that  happy 
realm.  Addressing  the  Past,  he  says : 

“Whatever  of  true  life  there  was  in  thee, 

Leaps  in  our  age’s  veins. 

•  •*•*•* 

Here,  ’mid  the  bleak  waves  of  our  strife  and  care, 

Float  the  green  ‘Fortunate  Isles,’ 

Where  all  thy  hero-spirits  dwell  and  share 
Our  martyrdoms  and  toils. 

The  present  moves  attended 
With  all  of  brave  and  excellent  and  fair 
That  made  the  old  time  splendid.” 


274  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


Milton  also  alludes  to  the  same  fable  in  “Paradise 
Lost,”  Book  III.,  1.  568: 

“Like  those  Hesperian  gardens  famed  of  old, 

Fortunate  fields  and  groves  and  flowery  vales, 

Thrice  happy  isles.” 

And  in  Book  II.  he  characterizes  the  rivers  of  Erebus 
according  to  the  meaning  of  their  names  in  the  Greek 
language : 

“Abhorred  Styx,  the  flood  of  deadly  hate, 

Sad  Acheron  of  sorrow  black  and  deep; 

Cocytus  named  of  lamentation  loud 
Heard  on  the  rueful  stream;  fierce  Phlegethon 
Whose  waves  of  torrent  fire  inflame  with  rage. 

Far  off  from  these  a  slow  and  silent  stream, 

Lethe,  the  river  of  oblivion,  rolls 

Her  watery  labyrinth,  whereof  who  drinks 

Forthwith  his  former  state  and  being  forgets, 

Forgets  both  joy  and  grief,  pleasure  and  pain  ” 

THE  SIBYL 

As  iEneas  and  the  Sibyl  pursued  their  way  back  to 
earth,  he  said  to  her,  “Whether  thou  be  a  goddess  or 
a  mortal  beloved  of  the  gods,  by  me  thou  shalt  always 
be  held  in  reverence.  When  I  reach  the  upper  air  I 
will  cause  a  temple  to  be  built  to  thy  honor,  and  will 
myself  bring  offerings.”  “I  am  no  goddess,”  said  the 
Sibyl;  “I  have  no  claim  to  sacrifice  or  offering.  I  am 
mortal ;  yet  if  I  could  have  accepted  the  love  of  Apollo 
I  might  have  been  immortal.  He  promised  me  the  ful¬ 
filment  of  my  wish,  if  I  would  consent  to  be  his.  I 
took  a  handful  of  sand,  and  holding  it  forth,  said,  ‘Grant 
me  to  see  as  many  birthdays  as  there  are  sand  grains 
in  my  hand.’  Unluckily  I  forgot  to  ask  for  enduring 
youth.  This  also  he  would  have  granted,  could  I  have 
accepted  his  love,  but  offended  at  my  refusal,  he  allowed 
me  to  grow  old.  My  youth  and  youthful  strength  fled 
long  ago.  I  have  lived  seven  hundred  years,  and  to 
equal  the  number  of  the  sand  grains  I  have  still  to  see 
three  hundred  springs  and  three  hundred  harvests.  My 
body  shrinks  up  as  years  increase,  and  in  time,  I  shall 
be  lost  to  sight,  but  my  voice  will  remain,  and  future 
ages  will  respect  my  sayings.” 


THE  SIBYL 


275 


These  concluding  words  of  the  Sibyl  alluded  to  her 
prophetic  power.  In  her  cave  she  was  accustomed  to 
inscribe  on  leaves  gathered  from  the  trees  the  names 
and  fates  of  individuals.  The  leaves  thus  inscribed  were 
arranged  in  order  within  the  cave,  and  might  be  con¬ 
sulted  by  her  votaries.  But  if  perchance  at  the  opening 
of  the  door  the  wind  rushed  in  and  dispersed  the  leaves 
the  Sibyl  gave  no  aid  to  restoring  them  again,  and  the 
oracle  was  irreparably  lost. 

The  following  legend  of  the  Sibyl  is  fixed  at  a  later 
date.  In  the  reign  of  one  of  the  Tarquins  there  ap¬ 
peared  before  the  king  a  woman  who  offered  him  nine 
books  for  sale.  The  king  refused  to  purchase  them, 
whereupon  the  woman  went  away  and  burned  three  of 
the  books,  and  returning  offered  the  remaining  books 
for  the  same  price  she  had  asked  for  the  nine.  The 
king  again  rejected  them;  but  when  the  woman,  after 
burning  three  books  more,  returned  and  asked  for  the 
three  remaining  the  same  price  which  she  had  before 
asked  for  the  nine,  his  curiosity  was  excited,  and  he 
purchased  the  books.  They  were  found  to  contain  the 
destinies  of  the  Roman  state.  They  were  kept  in  the 
temple  of  Jupiter  Capitolinus,  preserved  in  a  stone  chest, 
and  allowed  to  be  inspected  only  by  especial  officers  ap¬ 
pointed  for  that  duty,  who,  on  great  occasions,  consulted 
them  and  interpreted  their  oracles  to  the  people. 

There  were  various  Sibyls ;  but  the  Cumsean  Sibyl,  of 
whom  Ovid  and  Virgil  write,  is  the  most  celebrated  of 
them.  Ovid’s  story  of  her  life  protracted  to  one  thousand 
years  may  be  intended  to  represent  the  various  Sibyls 
as  being  only  reappearances  of  one  and  the  same  in¬ 
dividual. 

Young,  in  the  “Night  Thoughts/’  alludes  to  the  Sibyl. 
Speaking  of  Worldly  Wisdom,  he  says : 

“If  future  fate  she  plans  ’tis  all  in  leaves, 

Like  Sibyl,  unsubstantial,  fleeting  bliss; 

At  the  first  blast  it  vanishes  in  air. 

•  •••••  © 

As  worldly  schemes  resemble  Sibyl’s  leaves, 

The  good  man’s  days  to  Sibyl’s  books  compare. 

The  price  still  rising  as  in  number  less.” 


276  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

CAMILLA — BVANDER — NISUS  AND  EURYALUS — MEZENTIUS 

- TURNUS 

./Eneas,  having  parted  from  the  Sibyl  and  rejoined 
his  fleet,  coasted  along  the  shores  of  Italy  and  cast  anchor 
in  the  mouth  of  the  Tiber.  The  poet,  having  brought 
his  hero  to  this  spot,  the  destined  termination  of  his  wan¬ 
derings,  invokes  his  Muse  to  tell  him  the  situation  of 
things  at  that  eventful  moment.  Latinus,  third  in  descent 
from  Saturn,  ruled  the  country.  He  was  now  old  and 
had  no  male  descendant,  but  had  one  charming  daughter, 
Lavinia,  who  was  sought  in  marriage  by  many  neighbor¬ 
ing  chiefs,  one  of  whom,  Turnus,  king  of  the  Rutulians, 
was  favored  by  the  wishes  of  her  parents.  But  Latinus 
had  been  warned  in  a  dream  by  his  father  Faunus,  that 
the  destined  husband  of  Lavinia  should  come  from  a  for¬ 
eign  land.  From  that  union  should  spring  a  race  destined 
to  subdue  the  world. 

Our  readers  will  remember  that  in  the  conflict  with 
the  Harpies  one  of  those  half-human  birds  had  threat¬ 
ened  the  Trojans  with  dire  sufferings.  In  particular  she 
predicted  that  before  their  wanderings  ceased  they 
should  be  pressed  by  hunger  to  devour  their  tables.  This 
portent  now  came  true;  for  as  they  took  their  scanty 
meal,  seated  on  the  grass,  the  men  placed  their  hard  bis¬ 
cuit  on  their  laps,  and  put  thereon  whatever  their  glean¬ 
ings  in  the  woods  supplied.  Having  despatched  the 
latter  they  finished  by  eating  the  crusts.  Seeing  which, 
the  boy  lulus  said  playfully,  “See,  we  are  eating  our 
tables.”  /Eneas  caught  the  words  and  accepted  the  omen. 
“All  hail,  promised  land!”  he  exclaimed,  “this  is  our 
home,  this  our  country.”  He  then  took  measures  to  find 
out  who  were  the  present  inhabitants  of  the  land,  and 
who  their  rulers.  A  hundred  chosen  men  were  sent 
to  the  village  of  Latinus,  bearing  presents  and  a  re¬ 
quest  for  friendship  and  alliance.  They  went  and  were 
favorably  received.  Latinus  immediately  concluded  that 


OPENING  THE  GATES  OF  JANUS  277 


the  Trojan  hero  was  no  other  than  the  promised  son-in- 
law  announced  by  the  oracle.  He  cheerfully  granted 
his  alliance  and  sent  back  the  messengers  mounted  on 
steeds  from  his  stables,  and  loaded  with  gifts  and 
friendly  messages. 

Juno,  seeing  things  go  thus  prosperously  for  the  Tro¬ 
jans,  felt  her  old  animosity  revive,  summoned  Alecto 
from  Erebus,  and  sent  her  to  stir  up  discord.  The  Fury 
first  took  possession  of  the  queen,  Amata,  and  roused 
her  to  oppose  in  every  way  the  new  alliance.  Alecto 
then  speeded  to  the  city  of  Turnus,  and  assuming  the 
form  of  an  old  priestess,  informed  him  of  the  arrival  of 
the  foreigners  and  of  the  attempts  of  their  prince  to  rob 
him  of  his  bride.  Next  she  turned  her  attention  to  the 
camp  of  the  Trojans.  There  she  saw  the  boy  lulus  and 
his  companions  amusing  themselves  with  hunting.  She 
sharpened  the  scent  of  the  dogs,  and  led  them  to  rouse 
up  from  the  thicket  a  tame  stag,  the  favorite  of  Silvia, 
the  daughter  of  Tyrrheus,  the  king’s  herdsman.  A  javelin 
from  the  hand  of  lulus  wounded  the  animal,  and  he  had 
only  strength  left  to  run  homewards,  and  died  at  his  mis¬ 
tress’s  feet.  Her  cries  and  tears  roused  her  brothers  and 
the  herdsmen,  and  they,  seizing  whatever  weapons  came 
to  hand,  furiously  assaulted  the  hunting  party.  These 
were  protected  by  their  friends,  and  the  herdsmen  were 
finally  driven  back  with  the  loss  of  two  of  their  number. 

These  things  were  enough  to  rouse  the  storm  of  war, 
and  the  queen,  Turnus,  and  the  peasants  all  urged  the 
old  king  to  drive  the  strangers  from  the  country.  He 
resisted  as  long  as  he  could,  but,  finding  his  opposition 
unavailing,  finally  gave  way  and  retreated  to  his  retire¬ 
ment. 


OPENING  THE  GATES  OF  JANUS 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  country,  when  war  was  to 
be  undertaken,  for  the  chief  magistrate,  clad  in  his  robes 
of  office,  with  solemn  pomp  to  open  the  gates  of  the 
temple  of  Janus,  which  were  kept  shut  as  long  as  peace 
endured.  His  people  now  urged  the  old  king  to  perform 
that  solemn  office,  but  he  refused  to  do  so.  While  they 


278  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


contested,  Juno  herself,  descending  from  the  skies,  smote 
the  doors  with  irresistible  force,  and  burst  them  open. 
Immediately  the  whole  country  was  in  a  flame.  The 
people  rushed  from  every  side  breathing  nothing  but 
war. 

Turnus  was  recognized  by  all  as  leader;  others  joined 
as  allies,  chief  of  whom  was  Mezentius,  a  brave  and  able 
soldier,  but  of  detestable  cruelty.  He  had  been  the  chief 
of  one  of  the  neighboring  cities,  but  his  people  drove 
him  out.  With  him  was  joined  his  son  Lausus,  a  gen¬ 
erous  youth,  worthy  of  a  better  sire. 

CAMILLA 

Camilla,  the  favorite  of  Diana,  a  huntress  and  warrior, 
after  the  fashion  of  the  Amazons,  came  with  her  band 
of  mounted  followers,  including  a  select  number  of  her 
own  sex,  and  ranged  herself  on  the  side  of  Turnus. 
This  maiden  had  never  accustomed  her  fingers  to  the 
distaff  or  the  loom,  but  had  learned  to  endure  the  toils 
of  war,  and  in  speed  to  outstrip  the  wind.  It  seemed  as 
if  she  might  run  over  the  standing  corn  without  crushing 
it,  or  over  the  surface  of  the  water  without  dipping  her 
feet.  Camilla's  history  had  been  singular  from  the  begin¬ 
ning.  Her  father,  Metabus,  driven  from  his  city  by  civil 
discord,  carried  with  him  in  his  flight  his  infant  daughter. 
As  he  fled  through  the  woods,  his  enemies  in  hot  pursuit, 
he  reached  the  bank  of  the  river  Amazenus,  which, 
swelled  by  rains,  seemed  to  debar  a  passage.  He  paused 
for  a  moment,  then  decided  what  to  do.  He  tied 
the  infant  to  his  lance  with  wrappers  of  bark,  and  poising 
the  weapon  in  his  upraised  hand  thus  addressed  Diana : 
“Goddess  of  the  woods !  I  consecrate  this  maid  to  you 
then  hurled  the  weapon  with  its  burden  to  the  opposite 
bank.  The  spear  flew  across  the  roaring  water.  His 
pursuers  were  already  upon  him,  but  he  plunged  into 
the  river  and  swam  across,  and  found  the  spear,  with 
the  infant  safe  on  the  other  side.  Thenceforth  he  lived 
among  the  shepherds  and  brought  up  his  daughter  in 
woodland  arts.  While  a  child  she  was  taught  to  use  the 
bow  and  throw  the  javelin.  With  her  sling  she  could 


EVANDER 


279 


bring  down  the  crane  or  the  wild  swan.  Her  dress  was  a 
tiger’s  skin.  Many  mothers  sought  her  for  a  daughter- 
in-law,  but  she  continued  faithful  to  Diana  and  repelled 
the  thought  of  marriage. 


EVANDER 

Such  were  the  formidable  allies  that  ranged  them¬ 
selves  against  Tineas.  It  was  night  and  he  lay  stretched 
in  sleep  on  the  bank  of  the  river  under  the  open  heavens. 
The  god  of  the  stream,  Father  Tiber,  seemed  to  raise 
his  head  above  the  willows  and  to  say,  “O  goddess-born, 
destined  possessor  of  the  Latin  realms,  this  is  the  prom¬ 
ised  land,  here  is  to  be  your  home,  here  shall  terminate 
the  hostility  of  the  heavenly  powers,  if  only  you  faith¬ 
fully  persevere.  There  are  friends  not  far  distant.  Pre¬ 
pare  your  boats  and  row  up  my  stream;  I  will  lead  you 
to  Evander,  the  Arcadian  chief,  he  has  long  been  at 
strife  with  Turnus  and  the  Rutulians,  and  is  pre¬ 
pared  to  become  an  ally  of  yours.  Rise !  offer  your 
vows  to  Juno,  and  deprecate  her  anger.  When  you  have 
achieved  your  victory  then  think  of  me.”  Tineas  woke 
and  paid  immediate  obedience  to  the  friendly  vision.  He 
sacrificed  to  Juno,  and  invoked  the  god  of  the  river  and 
all  his  tributary  fountains  to  lend  their  aid.  Then  for 
the  first  time  a  vessel  filled  with  armed  warriors  floated 
on  the  stream  of  the  Tiber.  The  river  smoothed  its 
waves,  and  bade  its  current  flow  gently,  while,  impelled 
by  the  vigorous  strokes  of  the  rowers,  the  vessels  shot 
rapidly  up  the  stream. 

About  the  middle  of  the  day  they  came  in  sight  of 
the  scattered  buildings  of  the  infant  town,  where  in  after 
times  the  proud  city  of  Rome  grew,  whose  glory  reached 
the  skies.  By  chance  the  old  king,  Evander,  was  that 
day  celebrating  annual  solemnities  in  honor  of  Hercules 
and  all  the  gods.  Pallas,  his  son,  and  all  the  chiefs  of 
the  little  commonwealth  stood  by.  When  they  saw  the 
tall  ship  gliding  onward  near  the  wood,  they  were 
alarmed  at  the  sight,  and  rose  from  the  tables.  But 
Pallas  forbade  the  solemnities  to  be  interrupted,  and 
seizing  a  weapon,  stepped  forward  to  the  river’s  bank. 


280  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


He  called  aloud,  demanding  who  they  were,  and  what 
their  object.  yEneas,  holding  forth  an  olive-branch, 
replied,  “We  are  Trojans,  friends  to  you,  and  enemies 
to  the  Rutulians.  We  seek  Evander,  and  offer  to  join 
our  arms  with  yours.”  Pallas,  in  amaze  at  the  sound  of 
so  great  a  name,  invited  them  to  land,  and  when  YEneas 
touched  the  shore  he  seized  his  hand,  and  held  it  long  in 
friendly  grasp.  Proceeding  through  the  wood,  they 
joined  the  king  and  his  party  and  were  most  favorably 
received.  Seats  were  provided  for  them  at  the  tables, 
and  the  repast  proceeded. 

INFANT  ROME 

When  the  solemnities  were  ended  all  moved  towards 
the  city.  The  king,  bending  with  age,  walked  be¬ 
tween  his  son  and  Hineas,  taking  the  arm  of  one  or  the 
other  of  them,  and  with  much  variety  of  pleasing  talk 
shortening  the  way.  yEneas  with  delight  looked  and 
listened,  observing  all  the  beauties  of  the  scene,  and 
learning  much  of  heroes  renowned  in  ancient  times. 
Evander  said,  “These  extensive  groves  were  once  in¬ 
habited  by  fauns  and  nymphs,  and  a  rude  race  of  men 
who  sprang  from  the  trees  themselves,  and  had  neither 
laws  nor  social  culture.  They  knew  not  how  to  yoke  the 
cattle  nor  raise  a  harvest,  nor  provide  from  present  abun¬ 
dance  for  future  want ;  but  browsed  like  beasts  upon  the 
leafy  boughs,  or  fed  voraciously  on  their  hunted  prey. 
Such  were  they  when  Saturn,  expelled  from  Olympus  by 
his  sons,  came  among  them  and  drew  together  the  fierce 
savages,  formed  them  into  society,  and  gave  them  laws. 
Such  peace  and  plenty  ensued  that  men  ever  since  have 
called  his  reign  the  golden  age;  but  by  degrees  far  other 
times  succeeded,  and  the  thirst  of  gold  and  the  thirst  of 
blood  prevailed.  The  land  was  a  prey  to  successive  ty¬ 
rants,  till  fortune  and  resistless  destiny  brought  me 
hither,  an  exile  from  my  native  land,  Arcadia.” 

Having  thus  said,  he  showed  him  the  Tarpeian  rock, 
and  the  rude  spot  then  overgrown  with  bushes  where  in 
after  times  the  Capitol  rose  in  all  its  magnificence.  He 
next  pointed  to  some  dismantled  walls,  and  said,  “Here 


INFANT  ROME 


281 


stood  Janiculum,  built  by  Janus,  and  there  Saturnia,  the 
town  of  Saturn.”  Such  discourse  brought  them  to  the 
cottage  of  poor  Evander,  whence  they  saw  the  lowing 
herds  roaming  over  the  plain  where  now  the  proud  and 
stately  Forum  stands.  They  entered,  and  a  couch  was 
spread  for  iEneas,  well  stuffed  with  leaves,  and  covered 
with  the  skin  of  a  Libyan  bear. 

Next  morning,  awakened  by  the  dawn  and  the  shrill 
song  of  birds  beneath  the  eaves  of  his  low  mansion,  old 
Evander  rose.  Clad  in  a  tunic,  and  a  panther’s  skin 
thrown  over  his  shoulders,  with  sandals  on  his  feet  and 
his  good  sword  girded  to  his  side,  he  went  forth  to  seek 
his  guest.  Two  mastiffs  followed  him,  his  whole  retinue 
and  body  guard.  He  found  the  hero  attended  by  his 
faithful  Achates,  and,  Pallas  soon  joining  them,  the  old 
king  spoke  thus : 

“Illustrious  Trojan,  it  is  but  little  we  can  do  in  so 
great  a  cause.  Our  state  is  feeble,  hemmed  in  on  one 
side  by  the  river,  on  the  other  by  the  Rutulians.  But  I 
propose  to  ally  you  with  a  people  numerous  and  rich,  to 
whom  fate  has  brought  you  at  the  propitious  moment. 
The  Etruscans  hold  the  country  beyond  the  river.  Mezen- 
tius  was  their  king,  a  monster  of  cruelty,  who  invented 
unheard-of  torments  to  gratify  his  vengeance.  He 
would  fasten  the  dead  to  the  living,  hand  to  hand  and 
face  to  face,  and  leave  the  wretched  victims  to  die  in 
that  dreadful  embrace.  At  length  the  people  cast  him 
out,  him  and  his  house.  They  burned  his  palace  and 
slew  his  friends.  He  escaped  and  took  refuge  with 
Turnus,  who  protects  him  with  arms.  The  Etruscans 
demand  that  he  shall  be  given  up  to  deserved  punishment, 
and  would  ere  now  have  attempted  to  enforce  their  de¬ 
mand;  but  their  priests  restrain  them,  telling  them  that 
it  is  the  will  of  heaven  that  no  native  of  the  land  shall 
guide  them  to  victory,  and  that  thair  destined  leader 
must  come  from  across  the  sea.  They  have  offered  the 
crown  to  me,  but  I  am  too  old  to  undertake  such  great 
affairs,  and  my  son  is  native-born,  which  precludes  him 
from  the  choice.  You,  equally  by  birth  and  time  of  life, 
and  fame  in  arms,  pointed  out  by  the  gods,  have  but  to 
appear  to  be  hailed  at  once  as  their  leader.  With  you 


282  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


I  will  join  Pallas,  my  son,  my  only  hope  and  comfort. 
Under  you  he  shall  learn  the  art  of  war,  and  strive  to 
emulate  your  great  exploits.” 

Then  the  king  ordered  horses  to  be  furnished  for 
the  Trojan  chiefs,  and  iEneas,  with  a  chosen  band  of 
followers  and  Pallas  accompanying,  mounted  and  took 
the  way  to  the  Etruscan  city,1  having  sent  back  the  rest 
of  his  party  in  the  ships.  EEneas  and  his  band  safely  ar¬ 
rived  at  the  Etruscan  camp  and  were  received  with  open 
arms  by  Tarchon  and  his  countrymen. 

NISUS  AND  EURYALUS 

In  the  meanwhile  Turnus  had  collected  his  bands  and 
made  all  necessary  preparations  for  the  war.  Juno  sent 
Iris  to  him  with  a  message  inciting  him  to  take  advan¬ 
tage  of  the  absence  of  EEneas  and  surprise  the  Trojan 
camp.  Accordingly  the  attempt  was  made,  but  the  Tro¬ 
jans  were  found  on  their  guard,  and  having  received 
strict  orders  from  ^Eneas  not  to  fight  in  his  absence,  they 
lay  still  in  their  intrenchments,  and  resisted  all  the  efforts 
of  the  Rutulians  to  draw  them  into  the  field.  Night 
coming  on,  the  army  of  Turnus,  in  high  spirits  at  their 
fancied  superiority,  feasted  and  enjoyed  themselves,  and 
finally  stretched  themselves  on  the  field  and  slept  secure. 

In  the  camp  of  the  Trojans  things  were  far  otherwise. 
There  all  was  watchfulness  and  anxiety  and  impatience 
for  EEneas’s  return.  Nisus  stood  guard  at  the  entrance 
of  the  camp,  and  Euryalus,  a  youth  distinguished  above 
all  in  the  army  for  graces  of  person  and  fine  qualities, 
was  with  him.  These  two  were  friends  and  brothers 
in  arms.  Nisus  said  to  his  friend,  “Do  you  per¬ 
ceive  what  confidence  and  carelessness  the  enemy  dis¬ 
play?  Their  lights  are  few  and  dim,  and  the  men  seem 
all  oppressed  with  wine  or  sleep.  You  know  how  anx¬ 
iously  our  chiefs  wish  to  send  to  EEneas,  and  to  get  intel¬ 
ligence  from  him.  Now,  I  am  strongly  moved  to  make 
my  way  through  the  enemy’s  camp  and  to  go  in  search 

1  The  poet  here  inserts  a  famous  line  which  is  thought  to  imitate  in  its 
sound  the  galloping  of  horses.  It  may  be  thus  translated:  “Then  struck 
the  hoofs  of  the  steeds  on  the  ground  with  a  four-footed  trampling.” — 
See  Proverbial  Expressions. 


NISUS  AND  EURYALUS 


283 


of  our  chief.  If  I  succeed,  the  glory  of  the  deed  will  be 
reward  enough  for  me,  and  if  they  judge  the  service 
deserves  anything  more,  let  them  pay  it  to  you.” 

Euryalus,  all  on  fire  with  the  love  of  adventure,  re¬ 
plied,  “Would  you,  then,  Nisus,  refuse  to  share  your 
enterprise  with  me?  And  shall  I  let  you  go  into  such 
danger  alone?  Not  so  my  brave  father  brought  me  up, 
nor  so  have  I  planned  for  myself  when  I  joined  the 
standard  of  ^Eneas,  and  resolved  to  hold  my  life  cheap 
in  comparison  with  honor.”  Nisus  replied,  “I  doubt  it 
not,  my  friend ;  but  you  know  the  uncertain  event  of 
such  an  undertaking,  and  whatever  may  happen  to  me,  I 
wish  you  to  be  safe.  You  are  younger  than  I  and  have 
more  of  life  in  prospect.  Nor  can  I  be  the  cause  of  such 
grief  to  your  mother,  who  has  chosen  to  be  here  in  the 
camp  with  you  rather  than  stay  and  live  in  peace  with 
the  other  matrons  in  Acestes’  city.”  Euryalus  replied, 
“Say  no  more.  In  vain  you  seek  arguments  to  dissuade 
me.  I  am  fixed  in  the  resolution  to  go  with  you.  Let  us 
lose  no  time.”  They  called  the  guard,  and  committing 
the  watch  to  them,  sought  the  general’s  tent.  They 
found  the  chief  officers  in  consultation,  deliberating  how 
they  should  send  notice  to  ^Eneas  of  their  situation.  The 
offer  of  the  two  friends  was  gladly  accepted,  themselves 
loaded  with  praises  and  promised  the  most  liberal  re¬ 
wards  in  case  of  success.  lulus  especially  addressed 
Euryalus,  assuring  him  of  his  lasting  friendship.  Eury¬ 
alus  replied,  “I  have  but  one  boon  to  ask.  My  aged 
mother  is  with  me  in  the  camp.  For  me  she  left  the  Trojan 
soil,  and  would  not  stay  behind  with  the  other  matrons 
at  the  city  of  Acestes.  I  go  now  without  taking  leave  of 
her.  I  could  not  bear  her  tears  nor  set  at  nought  her  en¬ 
treaties.  But  do  thou,  I  beseech  you,  comfort  her  in  her 
distress.  Promise  me  that  and  I  shall  go  more  boldly 
into  whatever  dangers  may  present  themselves.”  lulus 
and  the  other  chiefs  were  moved  to  tears,  and  prom¬ 
ised  to  do  all  his  request.  “Your  mother  shall  be  mine,” 
said  lulus,  “and  all  that  I  have  promised  to  you  shall  be 
made  good  to  her,  if  you  do  not  return  to  receive  it.” 

The  two  friends  left  the  camp  and  plunged  at  once 
into  the  midst  of  the  enemy.  They  found  no  watch, 


284  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


no  sentinels  posted,  but,  all  about,  the  sleeping  soldiers 
strewn  on  the  grass  and  among  the  wagons.  The  laws 
of  war  at  that  early  day  did  not  forbid  a  brave  man  to 
slay  a  sleeping  foe,  and  the  two  Trojans  slew,  as  they 
passed,  such  of  the  enemy  as  they  could  without  exciting 
alarm.  In  one  tent  Euryalus  made  prize  of  a  helmet 
brilliant  with  gold  and  plumes.  They  had  passed  through 
the  enemy’s  ranks  without  being  discovered,  but  now 
suddenly  appeared  a  troop  directly  in  front  of  them, 
which,  under  Volscens,  their  leader,  were  approaching 
the  camp.  The  glittering  helmet  of  Euryalus  caught 
their  attention,  and  Volscens  hailed  the  two,  and  de¬ 
manded  who  and  whence  they  were.  They  made  no 
answer,  but  plunged  into  the  wood.  The  horsemen 
scattered  in  all  directions  to  intercept  their  flight.  Nisus 
had  eluded  pursuit  and  was  out  of  danger,  but  Euryalus 
being  missing  he  turned  back  to  seek  him.  He  again  en¬ 
tered  the  wood  and  soon  came  within  sound  of  voices. 
Looking  through  the  thicket  he  saw  the  whole  band  sur¬ 
rounding  Euryalus  with  noisy  questions.  What  should 
he  do  ?  how  extricate  the  youth,  or  would  it  be  better  to 
die  with  him. 

Raising  his  eyes  to  the  moon,  which  now  shone  clear, 
he  said,  “Goddess !  favor  my  effort !”  and  aiming  his 
javelin  at  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  troop,  struck  him 
in  the  back  and  stretched  him  on  the  plain  with  a  death¬ 
blow.  In  the  midst  of  their  amazement  another  weapon 
flew  and  another  of  the  party  fell  dead.  Volscens,  the 
leader,  ignorant  whence  the  darts  came,  rushed  sword  in 
hand  upon  Euryalus.  “You  shall  pay  the  penalty  off 
both,”  he  said,  and  would  have  plunged  the  sword  into 
his  bosom,  when  Nisus,  who  from  his  concealment  saw 
the  peril  of  his  friend,  rushed  forward  exclaiming, 
“ ’Twas  I,  ’twas  I;  turn  your  swords  against  me,  Ru- 
tulians,  I  did  it;  he  only  followed  me  as  a  friend.”  While 
he  spoke  the  sword  fell,  and  pierced  the  comely  bosom 
of  Euryalus.  His  head  fell  over  on  his  shoulder,  like  a 
flower  cut  down  by  the  plough.  Nisus  rushed  upon 
Volscens  and  plunged  his  sword  into  his  body,  and  was 
himself  slain  on  the  instant  by  numberless  blows. 


MEZENTIUS 


285 


MEZENTIUS 

ZEneas,  with  his  Etrurian  allies,  arrived  on  the  scene 
of  action  in  time  to  rescue  his  beleaguered  camp;  and 
now  the  two  armies  being  nearly  equal  in  strength,  the 
war  began  in  good  earnest.  We  cannot  find  space  for 
all  the  details,  but  must  simply  record  the  fate  of  the 
principal  characters  whom  we  have  introduced  to  our 
readers.  The  tyrant  Mezentius,  finding  himself  engaged 
against  his  revolting  subjects,  raged  like  a  wild  beast. 
He  slew  all  who  dared  to  withstand  him,  and  put  the 
multitude  to  flight  wherever  he  appeared.  At  last  he 
encountered  ZEneas,  and  the  armies  stood  still  to  see 
the  issue.  Mezentius  threw  his  spear,  which  striking 
ZEneas’s  shield  glanced  off  and  hit  Anthor.  He  was  a 
Grecian  by  birth,  who  had  left  Argos,  his  native  city, 
and  followed  Evander  into  Italy.  The  poet  says  of  him 
with  simple  pathos  which  has  made  the  words  proverbial, 
“He  fell,  unhappy,  by  a  wound  intended  for  another, 
looked  up  at  the  skies,  and  dying  remembered  sweet 
Argos.”1  ZEneas  now  in  turn  hurled  his  lance.  It 
pierced  the  shield  of  Mezentius,  and  wounded  him  in 
the  thigh.  Lausus,  his  son,  could  not  bear  the  sight,  but 
rushed  forward  and  interposed  himself,  while  the  fol¬ 
lowers  pressed  round  Mezentius  and  bore  him  away. 
ZEneas  held  his  sword  suspended  over  Lausus  and  de¬ 
layed  to  strike,  but  the  furious  youth  pressed  on  and  he 
was  compelled  to  deal  the  fatal  blow.  Lausus  fell,  and 
ZEneas  bent  over  him  in  pity.  “Hapless  youth,”  he  said, 
“what  can  I  do  for  you  worthy  of  your  praise?  Keep 
those  arms  in  which  you  glory,  and  fear  not  but  that  your 
body  shall  be  restored  to  your  friends,  and  have  due 
funeral  honors.”  So  saying,  he  called  the  timid  follow¬ 
ers  and  delivered  the  body  into  their  hands. 

Mezentius  meanwhile  had  been  borne  to  the  riverside, 
and  washed  his  wound.  Soon  the  news  reached  him  of 
Lausus’s  death,  and  rage  and  despair  supplied  the  place 
of  strength.  He  mounted  his  horse  and  dashed  into  the 
thickest  of  the  fight,  seeking  ZEneas.  Having  found  him. 


1  See  Proverbial  Expressions. 


286  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


he  rode  round  him  in  a  circle,  throwing  one  javelin  after 
another,  while  tineas  stood  fenced  with  his  shield,  turn¬ 
ing  every  way  to  meet  them.  At  last,  after  Mezentius 
had  three  times  made  the  circuit,  iEneas  threw  his  lance 
directly  at  the  horse’s  head.  It  pierced  his  temples  and 
he  fell,  while  a  shout  from  both  armies  rent  the  skies. 
Mezentius  asked  no  mercy,  but  only  that  his  body  might 
be  spared  the  insults  of  his  revolted  subjects,  and  be 
buried  in  the  same  grave  with  his  son.  He  received  the 
fatal  stroke  not  unprepared,  and  poured  out  his  life  and 
his  blood  together. 

PALLAS,  CAMILLA,  TURNUS 

While  these  things  were  doing  in  one  part  of  the  field, 
in  another  Turnus  encountered  the  youthful  Pallas.  The 
contest  between  champions  so  unequally  matched  could 
not  be  doubtful.  Pallas  bore  himself  bravely,  but  fell  by 
the  lance  of  Turnus.  The  victor  almost  relented  when 
he  saw  the  brave  youth  lying  dead  at  his  feet,  and  spared 
to  use  the  privilege  of  a  conqueror  in  despoiling  him  of 
his  arms.  The  belt  only,  adorned  with  studs  and  carv¬ 
ings  of  gold,  he  took  and  clasped  round  his  own  body. 
The  rest  he  remitted  to  the  friends  of  the  slain. 

After  the  battle  there  was  a  cessation  of  arms  for 
some  days  to  allow  both  armies  to  bury  their  dead.  In 
this  interval  ^Eneas  challenged  Turnus  to  decide  the  con¬ 
test  by  single  combat,  but  Turnus  evaded  the  challenge. 
Another  battle  ensued,  in  which  Camilla,  the  virgin  war¬ 
rior,  was  chiefly  conspicuous.  Her  deeds  of  valor  sur¬ 
passed  those  of  the  bravest  warriors,  and  many  Trojans 
and  Etruscans  fell  pierced  with  her  darts  or  struck  down 
by  her  battle-axe.  At  last  an  Etruscan  named  Aruns, 
who  had  watched  her  long,  seeking  for  some  advantage, 
observed  her  pursuing  a  flying  enemy  whose  splendid 
armor  offered  a  tempting  prize.  Intent  on  the  chase 
she  observed  not  her  danger,  and  the  javelin  of  Aruns 
struck  her  and  inflicted  a  fatal  wound.  She  fell  and 
breathed  her  last  in  the  arms  of  her  attendant  maidens. 
But  Diana,  who  beheld  her  fate,  suffered  not  her 
slaughter  to  be  unavenged.  Aruns,  as  he  stole  away, 


PALLAS,  CAMILLA,  TURNUS 


287 


glad,  but  frightened,  was  struck  by  a  secret  arrow, 
launched  by  one  of  the  nymphs  of  Diana’s  train,  and 
died  ignobly  and  unknown. 

At  length  the  final  conflict  took  place  between  ^Eneas 
and  Turnus.  Turnus  had  avoided  the  contest  as  long  as 
he  could,  but  at  last,  impelled  by  the  ill  success  of  his 
arms  and  by  the  murmurs  of  his  followers,  he  braced 
himself  to  the  conflict.  It  could  not  be  doubtful.  On 
the  side  of  iEneas  were  the  expressed  decree  of  destiny, 
the  aid  of  his  goddess-mother  at  every  emergency,  and 
impenetrable  armor  fabricated  by  Vulcan,  at  her  request, 
for  her  son.  Turnus,  on  the  other  hand,  was  deserted 
by  his  celestial  allies,  Juno  having  been  expressly  for¬ 
bidden  by  Jupiter  to  assist  him  any  longer.  Turnus 
threw  his  lance,  but  it  recoiled  harmless  from  the  shield 
of  ^Eneas.  The  Trojan  hero  then  threw  his,  which  pene¬ 
trated  the  shield  of  Turnus,  and  pierced  his  thigh.  Then 
Turnus’s  fortitude  forsook  him  and  he  begged  for  mercy; 
and  ^Eneas  would  have  given  him  his  life,  but  at  the  in¬ 
stant  his  eye  fell  on  the  belt  of  Pallas,  which  Turnus  had 
taken  from  the  slaughtered  youth.  Instantly  his  rage 
revived,  and  exclaiming,  “Pallas  immolates  thee  with 
this  blow,”  he  thrust  him  through  with  his  sword. 

Here  the  poem  of  the  ‘VEneid”  closes,  and  we  are 
left  to  infer  that  TEneas,  having  triumphed  over  his  foes, 
obtained  Lavinia  for  his  bride.  Tradition  adds  that  he 
founded  his  city,  and  called  it  after  her  name,  Lavin- 
ium.  His  son  lulus  founded  Alba  Longa,  which  was  the 
birthplace  of  Romulus  and  Remus  and  the  cradle  of 
Rome  itself. 

There  is  an  allusion  to  Camilla  in  those  well-known 
lines  of  Pope,  in  which,  illustrating  the  rule  that  “the 
sound  should  be  an  echo  to  the  sense,”  he  says : 

“When  Ajax  strives  some  rock’s  vast  weight  to  throw, 

The  line  too  labors  and  the  words  move  slow. 

Not  so  when  swift  Camilla  scours  the  plain, 

Flies  o’er  th’  unbending  corn  or  skims  along  the  main.” 

— Essay  on  Criticism . 


288  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

PYTHAGORAS — EGYPTIAN  DEITIES - ORACLES 

PYTHAGORAS 

The  teachings  of  Anchises  to  ^Eneas,  respecting  the 
nature  of  the  human  soul,  were  in  conformity  with  the 
doctrines  of  the  Pythagoreans.  Pythagoras  (born  five 
hundred  and  forty  years  B.C.)  was  a  native  of  the 
island  of  Samos,  but  passed  the  chief  portion  of  his 
life  at  Crotona  in  Italy.  He  is  therefore  sometimes 
called  “the  Samian/’  and  sometimes  “the  philosopher  of 
Crotona.”  When  young  he  travelled  extensively,  and 
it  is  said  visited  Egypt,  where  he  was  instructed  by  the 
priests  in  all  their  learning,  and  afterwards  journeyed 
to  the  East,  and  visited  the  Persian  and  Chaldean  Magi, 
and  the  Brahmins  of  India. 

At  Crotona,  where  he  finally  established  himself,  his 
extraordinary  qualities  collected  round  him  a  great  num- 
ber  of  disciples.  The  inhabitants  were  notorious  for 
luxury  and  licentiousness,  but  the  good  effects  of  his 
influence  were  soon  visible.  Sobriety  and  temperance 
succeeded.  Six  hundred  of  the  inhabitants  became  his 
disciples  and  enrolled  themselves  in  a  society  to  aid  each 
other  in  the  pursuit  of  wisdom,  uniting  their  prop¬ 
erty  in  one  common  stock  for  the  benefit  of  the  whole. 
They  were  required  to  practise  the  greatest  purity  and 
simplicity  of  manners.  The  first  lesson  they  learned 
was  silence;  for  a  time  they  were  required  to  be  only 
hearers.  “He  [Pythagoras]  said  so”  ( Ipse  dixit),  was 
to  be  held  by  them  as  sufficient,  without  any  proof.  It 
was  only  the  advanced  pupils,  after  years  of  patient 
submission,  who  were  allowed  to  ask  questions  and  to 
state  objections. 

Pythagoras  considered  numbers  as  the  essence  and 
principle  of  all  things,  and  attributed  to  them  a  real  and 
distinct  existence;  so  that,  in  his  view,  they  were  the 
elements  out  of  which  the  universe  was  constructed. 


PYTHAGORAS 


289 


How  he  conceived  this  process  has  never  been  satis¬ 
factorily  explained.  He  traced  the  various  forms  and 
phenomena  of  the  world  to  numbers  as  their  basis  and 
essence.  The  “Monad”  or  unit  he  regarded  as  the 
source  of  all  numbers.  The  number  Two  was  imper¬ 
fect,  and  the  cause  of  increase  and  division.  Three  was 
called  the  number  of  the  whole  because  it  had  a  be¬ 
ginning,  middle,  and  end.  Four,  representing  the  square, 
is  in  the  highest  degree  perfect;  and  Ten,  as  it  contains 
the  sum  of  the  four  prime  numbers,  comprehends  all 
musical  and  arithmetical  proportions,  and  denotes  the 
system  of  the  world. 

As  the  numbers  proceed  from  the  monad,  so  he  re¬ 
garded  the  pure  and  simple  essence  of  the  Deity  as  the 
source  of  all  the  forms  of  nature.  Gods,  demons,  and 
heroes  are  emanations  of  the  Supreme,  and  there  is  a 
fourth  emanation,  the  human  soul.  This  is  immortal, 
and  when  freed  from  the  fetters  of  the  body  passes  to 
the  habitation  of  the  dead,  where  it  remains  till  it  re¬ 
turns  to  the  world,  to  dwell  in  some  other  human  or 
animal  body,  and  at  last,  when  sufficiently  purified,  it 
returns  to  the  source  from  which  it  proceeded.  This 
doctrine  of  the  transmigration  of  souls  (metempsycho¬ 
sis),  which  was  originally  Egyptian  and  connected  with 
the  doctrine  of  reward  and  punishment  of  human  ac¬ 
tions,  was  the  chief  cause  why  the  Pythagoreans  killed 
no  animals.  Ovid  represents  Pythagoras  addressing  his 
disciples  in  these  words:  “Souls  never  die,  but  always 
on  quitting  one  abode  pass  to  another.  I  myself  can 
remember  that  in  the  time  of  the  Trojan  war  I  was 
Euphorbus,  the  son  of  Panthus,  and  fell  by  the  spear 
of  Menelaus.  Lately  being  in  the  temple  of  Juno,  at 
Argos,  I  recognized  my  shield  hung  up  there  among 
the  trophies.  All  things  change,  nothing  perishes.  The 
soul  passes  hither  and  thither,  occupying  now  this  body, 
now  that,  passing  from  the  body  of  a  beast  into  that 
of  a  man,  and  thence  to  a  beast’s  again.  As  wax  is 
stamped  with  certain  figures,  then  melted,  then  stamped 
anew  with  others,  yet  is  always  the  same  wax,  so  the 
soul,  being  always  the  same,  yet  wears,  at  different 
times,  different  forms.  Therefore,  if  the  love  of  kin- 


290  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


dred  is  not  extinct  in  your  bosoms,  forbear,  I  entreat 
you,  to  violate  the  life  of  those  who  may  haply  be  your 
own  relatives.” 

Shakspeare,  in  the  “Merchant  of  Venice,”  makes 
Gratiano  allude  to  the  metempsychosis,  where  he  says 
to  Shylock : 

“Thou  almost  mak’st  me  waver  in  my  faith, 

To  hold  opinion  with  Pythagoras, 

That  souls  of  animals  infuse  themselves 
Into  the  trunks  of  men;  thy  currish  spirit 
Governed  a  wolf ;  who  hanged  for  human  slaughter 
Infused  his  soul  in  thee ;  for  thy  desires 
Are  wolfish,  bloody,  starved  and  ravenous.” 

The  relation  of  the  notes  of  the  musical  scale  to 
numbers,  whereby  harmony  results  from  vibrations  in 
equal  times,  and  discord  from  the  reverse,  led  Pythag¬ 
oras  to  apply  the  word  “harmony”  to  the  visible  crea¬ 
tion,  meaning  by  it  the  just  adaptation  of  parts  to  each 
other.  This  is  the  idea  which  Dryden  expresses  in  the 
beginning  of  his  “Song  for  St.  Cecilia’s  Day”: 

“From  harmony,  from  heavenly  harmony 
This  everlasting  frame  began; 

From  harmony  to  harmony 

Through  all  the  compass  of  the  notes  it  ran, 

The  Diapason  closing  full  in  Man.” 

In  the  centre  of  the  universe  (he  taught)  there  was  a 
central  fire,  the  principle  of  life.  The  central  fire  was 
surrounded  by  the  earth,  the  moon,  the  sun,  and  the 
five  planets.  The  distances  of  the  various  heavenly 
bodies  from  one  another  were  conceived  to  correspond 
to  the  proportions  of  the  musical  scale.  The  heavenly 
bodies,  with  the  gods  who  inhabited  them,  were  sup¬ 
posed  to  perform  a  choral  dance  round  the  central  fire, 
“not  without  song.”  It  is  this  doctrine  which  Shak¬ 
speare  alludes  to  when  he  makes  Lorenzo  teach  astron¬ 
omy  to  Jessica  in  this  fashion: 

“Look,  Jessica,  see  how  the  floor  of  heaven 
Is  thick  inlaid  with  patines  of  bright  gold  I 


PYTHAGORAS 


291 


There’s  not  the  smallest  orb  that  thou  behold’st 
But  in  his  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 

Still  quiring  to  the  young-eyed  cherubim; 

Such  harmony  is  in  immortal  souls ! 

But  whilst  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 
Doth  grossly  close  it  in  we  cannot  hear  it.” 

— Merchant  of  Venice. 


The  spheres  were  conceived  to  be  crystalline  or  glassy 
fabrics  arranged  over  one  another  like  a  nest  of  bowls 
reversed.  In  the  substance  of  each  sphere  one  or  more 
of  the  heavenly  bodies  was  supposed  to  be  fixed,  so  as 
to  move  with  it.  As  the  spheres  are  transparent  we 
look  through  them  and  see  the  heavenly  bodies  which 
they  contain  and  carry  round  with  them.  But  as  these 
spheres  cannot  move  on  one  another  without  friction, 
a  sound  is  thereby  produced  which  is  of  exquisite  har¬ 
mony,  too  fine  for  mortal  ears  to  recognize.  Milton,  in 
his  “Hymn  on  the  Nativity,”  thus  alludes  to  the  music 
of  the  spheres: 

“Ring  out,  ye  crystal  spheres! 

Once  bless  our  human  ears 

(If  ye  have  power  to  charm  our  senses  so)  ; 

And  let  your  silver  chime 
Move  in  melodious  time, 

And  let  the  base  of  Heaven’s  deep  organ  blow; 

And  with  your  ninefold  harmony 

Make  up  full  concert  with  the  angelic  symphony.” 


Pythagoras  is  said  to  have  invented  the  lyre.  Our 
own  poet  Longfellow,  in  “Verses  to  a  Child,”  thus  re¬ 
lates  the  story: 

“As  great  Pythagoras  of  yore, 

Standing  beside  the  blacksmith’s  door, 

And  hearing  the  hammers  as  they  smote 
The  anvils  with  a  different  note, 

Stole  from  the  varying  tones  that  hung 
Vibrant  on  every  iron  tongue, 

The  secret  of  the  sounding  wire, 

And  formed  the  seven-chorded  lyre.” 

See  also  the  same  poet’s  “Occultation  of  Orion” — 

“The  Samian’s  great  TLolian  lyre.” 


292  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


SYBARIS  AND  CROTONA 

Sybaris,  a  neighboring  city  to  Crotona,  was  as  cele¬ 
brated  for  luxury  and  effeminacy  as  Crotona  for  the 
reverse.  The  name  has  become  proverbial.  J.  R. 
Lowell  uses  it  in  this  sense  in  his  charming  little  poem 
“To  the  Dandelion”: 

‘‘Not  in  mid  June  the  golden  cuirassed  bee 
Feels  a  more  summer-like,  warm  ravishment 
In  the  white  lily’s  breezy  tent 
(His  conquered  Sybaris)  than  I  when  first 
From  the  dark  green  thy  yellow  circles  burst.” 

A  war  arose  between  the  two  cities,  and  Sybaris  was 
conquered  and  destroyed.  Milo,  the  celebrated  athlete, 
led  the  army  of  Crotona.  Many  stories  are  told  of 
Milo’s  vast  strength,  such  as  his  carrying  a  heifer  of 
four  years  old  upon  his  shoulders  and  afterwards  eat¬ 
ing  the  whole  of  it  in  a  single  day.  The  mode  of  his 
death  is  thus  related :  As  he  was  passing  through  a 
forest  he  saw  the  trunk  of  a  tree  which  had  been  par¬ 
tially  split  open  by  wood-cutters,  and  attempted  to  rend 
it  further;  but  the  wood  closed  upon  his  hands  and  held 
him  fast,  in  which  state  he  was  attacked  and  devoured 
by  wolves. 

Byron,  in  his  “Ode  to  Napoleon  Bonaparte,”  alludes 
to  the  story  of  Milo: 

“He  who  of  old  would  rend  the  oak 
Deemed  not  of  the  rebound; 

Chained  by  the  trunk  he  vainly  broke, 

Alone,  how  looked  he  round!” 

EGYPTIAN  DEITIES 

The  Egyptians  acknowledged  as  the  highest  deity 
Amun,  afterwards  called  Zeus,  or  Jupiter  Ammon. 
Amun  manifested  himself  in  his  word  or  will,  which 
created  Kneph  and  Athor,  of  different  sexes.  From 
Kneph  and  Athor  proceeded  Osiris  and  Isis.  Osiris  was 
worshipped  as  the  god  of  the  sun,  the  source  of  warmth, 


MYTH  OF  OSIRIS  AND  ISIS 


293 


life,  and  fruitfulness,  in  addition  to  which  he  was  also 
regarded  as  the  god  of  the  Nile,  who  annually  visited 
his  wife,  Isis  (the  Earth),  by  means  of  an  inundation. 
Serapis  or  Hermes  is  sometimes  represented  as  identical 
with  Osiris,  and  sometimes  as  a  distinct  divinity,  the 
ruler  of  Tartarus  and  god  of  medicine.  Anubis  is  the 
guardian  god,  represented  with  a  dog’s  head,  emblematic 
of  his  character  of  fidelity  and  watchfulness.  Horus  or 
Harpocrates  was  the  son  of  Osiris.  He  is  represented 
seated  on  a  Lotus  flower,  with  his  finger  on  his  lips,  as 
the  god  of  Silence. 

In  one  of  Moore’s  “Irish  Melodies”  is  an  allusion  to 
Harpocrates : 

‘‘Thyself  shall,  under  some  rosy  bower, 

Sit  mute,  with  thy  finger  on  thy  lip; 

Like  him,  the  boy,  who  born  among 

The  flowers  that  on  the  Nile-stream  blush, 

Sits  ever  thus, — his  only  song 
To  Earth  and  Heaven,  ‘Hush  all,  hush !’  ” 

MYTH  OF  OSIRIS  AND  ISIS 

Osiris  and  Isis  were  at  one  time  induced  to  descend 
to  the  earth  to  bestow  gifts  and  blessings  on  its  inhabi¬ 
tants.  Isis  showed  them  first  the  use  of  wheat  and 
barley,  and  Osiris  made  the  instruments  of  agriculture 
and  taught  men  the  use  of  them,  as  well  as  how  to 
harness  the  ox  to  the  plough.  He  then  gave  men  laws, 
the  institution  of  marriage,  a  civil  organization,  and 
taught  them  how  to  worship  the  gods.  After  he  had 
thus  made  the  valley  of  the  Nile  a  happy  country, 
he  assembled  a  host  with  which  he  went  to  bestow  his 
blessings  upon  the  rest  of  the  world.  He  conquered  the 
nations  everywhere,  but  not  with  weapons,  only  with 
music  and  eloquence.  His  brother  Typhon  saw  this, 
and  filled  with  envy  and  malice  sought  during  his  ab¬ 
sence  to  usurp  his  throne.  But  Isis,  who  held  the  reins 
of  government,  frustrated  his  plans.  Still  more  em¬ 
bittered,  he  now  resolved  to  kill  his  brother.  This  he 
did  in  the  following  manner:  Having  organized  a  con¬ 
spiracy  of  seventy-two  members,  he  went  with  them 


294  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


to  the  feast  which  was  celebrated  in  honor  of  the  king’s 
return.  He  then  caused  a  box  or  chest  to  be  brought 
in,  which  had  been  made  to  fit  exactly  the  size  of  Osiris, 
and  declared  that  he  would  give  that  chest  of  precious 
wood  to  whosoever  could  get  into  it.  The  rest  tried 
in  vain,  but  no  sooner  was  Osiris  in  it  than  Typhon  and 
his  companions  closed  the  lid  and  flung  the  chest  into 
the  Nile.  When  Isis  heard  of  the  cruel  murder  she 
wept  and  mourned,  and  then  with  her  hair  shorn,  clothed 
in  black  and  beating  her  breast,  she  sought  diligently 
for  the  body  of  her  husband.  In  this  search  she  was 
materially  assisted  by  Anubis,  the  son  of  Osiris  and 
Nephthys.  They  sought  in  vain  for  some  time;  for 
when  the  chest,  carried  by  the  waves  to  the  shores  of 
Byblos,  had  become  entangled  in  the  reeds  that  grew 
at  the  edge  of  the  water,  the  divine  power  that  dwelt  in 
the  body  of  Osiris  imparted  such  strength  to  the  shrub 
that  it  grew  into  a  mighty  tree,  enclosing  in  its  trunk 
the  coffin  of  the  god.  This  tree  with  its  sacred  deposit 
was  shortly  after  felled,  and  erected  as  a  column  in 
the  palace  of  the  king  of  Phoenicia.  But  at  length  by 
the  aid  of  Anubis  and  the  sacred  birds,  Isis  ascertained 
these  facts,  and  then  went  to  the  royal  city.  There  she 
offered  herself  at  the  palace  as  a  servant,  and  being 
admitted,  threw  off  her  disguise  \  and  appeared  as  a 
goddess,  surrounded  with  thunder  and  lightning.  Strik¬ 
ing  the  column  with  her  wand  she  caused  it  to  split  open 
and  give  up  the  sacred  coffin.  This  she  seized  and  re¬ 
turned  with  it,  and  concealed  it  in  the  depth  of  a  forest, 
but  Typhon  discovered  it,  and  cutting  the  body  into 
fourteen  pieces  scattered  them  hither  and  thither.  After 
a  tedious  search,  Isis  found  thirteen  pieces,  the  fishes 
of  the  Nile  having  eaten  the  other.  This  she  replaced 
by  an  imitation  of  sycamore  wood,  and  buried  the  body 
at  Philae,  which  became  ever  after  the  great  burying 
place  of  the  nation,  and  the  spot  to  which  pilgrimages 
were  made  from  all  parts  of  the  country.  A  temple 
of  surpassing  magnificence  was  also  erected  there  in 
honor  of  the  god,  and  at  every  place  where  one  of  his 
limbs  had  been  found  minor  temples  and  tombs  were 
built  to  commemorate  the  event.  Osiris  became  after 


MYTH  OF  OSIRIS  AND  ISIS 


295 


that  the  tutelar  deity  of  the  Egyptians.  His  soul  was 
supposed  always  to  inhabit  the  body  of  the  bull  Apis, 
and  at  his  death  to  transfer  itself  to  his  successor. 

Apis,  the  Bull  of  Memphis,  was  worshipped  with  the 
greatest  reverence  by  the  Egyptians.  The  individual 
animal  who  was  held  to  be  Apis  was  recognized  by 
certain  signs.  It  was  requisite  that  he  should  be  quite 
black,  have  a  white  square  mark  on  the  forehead,  an¬ 
other,  in  the  form  of  an  eagle,  on  his  back,  and  under 
his  tongue  a  lump  somewhat  in  the  shape  of  a  scara- 
bseus  or  beetle.  As  soon  as  a  bull  thus  marked  was 
>  found  by  those  sent  in  search  of  him,  he  was  placed  in 
a  building  facing  the  east,  and  was  fed  with  milk  for 
four  months.  At  the  expiration  of  this  term  the  priests 
repaired  at  new  moon,  with  great  pomp,  to  his  habita¬ 
tion  and  saluted  him  Apis.  He  was  placed  in  a  vessel 
magnificently  decorated  and  conveyed  down  the  Nile  to 
Memphis,  where  a  temple,  with  two  chapels  and  a  court 
for  exercise,  was  assigned  to  him.  Sacrifices  were  made 
to  him,  and  once  every  year,  about  the  time  when  the 
Nile  began  to  rise,  a  golden  cup  was  thrown  into  the 
river,  and  a  grand  festival  was  held  to  celebrate  his 
birthday.  The  people  believed  that  during  this  festival 
the  crocodiles  forgot  their  natural  ferocity  and  became 
harmless.  There  was,  however,  one  drawback  to  his 
happy  lot:  he  was  not  permitted  to  live  beyond  a  cer¬ 
tain  period,  and  if,  when  he  had  attained  the  age  of 
twenty-five  years,  he  still  survived,  the  priests  drowned 
him  in  the  sacred  cistern  and  then  buried  him  in  the 
temple  of  Serapis.  On  the  death  of  this  bull,  whether  it 
occurred  in  the  course  of  nature  or  by  violence,  the 
whole  land  was  filled  with  sorrow  and  lamentations, 
which  lasted  until  his  successor  was  found. 

We  find  the  following  item  in  one  of  the  newspapers 
of  the  day : 

“The  Tomb  of  Apis. — The  excavations  going  on  at 
Memphis  bid  fair  to  make  that  buried  city  as  interesting 
as  Pompeii.  The  monster  tomb  of  Apis  is  now  open, 
after  having  lain  unknown  for  centuries.’’ 

Milton,  in  his  “Hymn  on  the  Nativity,”  alludes  to 


296  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


the  Egyptian  deities,  not  as  imaginary  beings,  but  as 
real  demons,  put  to  flight  by  the  coming  of  Christ. 

“The  brutish  gods  of  Nile  as  fast, 

Isis  and  Horus  and  the  dog  Anubis  haste. 

Nor  is  Osiris  seen 
In  Memphian  grove  or  green 
Trampling  the  1  unshowered  grass  with  lowings  loud; 

Nor  can  he  be  at  rest 
Within  his  sacred  chest; 

Nought  but  profoundest  hell  can  be  his  shroud. 

In  vain  with  timbrel’d  anthems  dark 
The  sable-stoled  sorcerers  bear  his  worshipped  ark.” 

Isis  was  represented  in  statuary  with  the  head  veiled, 
a  symbol  of  mystery.  It  is  this  which  Tennyson  al¬ 
ludes  to  in  “Maud,”  IV.,  8 : 

“For  the  drift  of  the  Maker  is  dark,  an  Isis  hid  by  the  veil,”  etc. 

ORACLES 

Oracle  was  the  name  used  to  denote  the  place  where 
answers  were  supposed  to  be  given  by  any  of  the 
divinities  to  those  who  consulted  them  respecting  the 
future.  The  word  was  also  used  to  signify  the  re¬ 
sponse  which  was  given. 

The  most  ancient  Grecian  oracle  was  that  of  Jupiter 
at  Dodona.  According  to  one  account,  it  was  estab¬ 
lished  in  the  following  manner:  Two  black  doves  took 
their  flight  from  Thebes  in  Egypt.  One  flew  to  Dodona 
in  Epirus,  and  alighting  in  a  grove  of  oaks,  it  pro¬ 
claimed  in  human  language  to  the  inhabitants  of  the 
district  that  they  must  establish  there  an  oracle  of  Jupi¬ 
ter.  The  other  dove  flew  to  the  temple  of  Jupiter 
Ammon  in  the  Libyan  Oasis,  and  delivered  a  similar 
command  there.  Another  account  is,  that  they  were  not 
doves,  but  priestesses,  who  were  carried  off  from 
Thebes  in  Egypt  by  the  Phoenicians,  and  set  up  oracles 
at  the  Oasis  and  Dodona.  The  responses  of  the  oracle 

1  There  being  no  rain  in  Egypt,  the  grass  is  “unshowered,”  and  the 
country  depends  for  its  fertility  upon  the  overflowings  of  the  Nile.  The 
ark  alluded  to  in  the  last  line  is  shown  by  pictures  still  remaining  on  the 
walls  of  the  Egyptian  temples  to  have  been  borne  by  the  priests  in  their 
religious  processions.  It  probably  represented  the  chest  in  which  Osiris 
was  placed. 


ORACLE  OF  TROPHONIUS 


297 


were  given  from  the  trees,  by  the  branches  rustling  in 
the  wind,  the  sounds  being  interpreted  by  the  priests. 

But  the  most  celebrated  of  the  Grecian  oracles  was 
that  of  Apollo  at  Delphi,  a  city  built  on  the  slopes  of 
Parnassus  in  Phocis.  » 

It  had  been  observed  at  a  very  early  period  that  the 
goats  feeding  on  Parnassus  were  thrown  into  convul¬ 
sions  when  they  approached  a  certain  long  deep  cleft 
in  the  side  of  the  mountain.  This  was  owing  to  a 
peculiar  vapor  arising  out  of  the  cavern,  and  one  of 
the  goatherds  was  induced  to  try  its  effects  upon  him¬ 
self.  Inhaling  the  intoxicating  air,  he  was  affected  in 
the  same  manner  as  the  cattle  had  been,  and  the  in¬ 
habitants  of  the  surrounding  country,  unable  to  explain 
the  circumstance,  imputed  the  convulsive  ravings  to 
which  he  gave  utterance  while  under  the  power  of  the 
exhalations  to  a  divine  inspiration.  The  fact  was  speed¬ 
ily  circulated  widely,  and  a  temple  was  erected  on  the 
spot.  The  prophetic  influence  was  at  first  variously 
attributed  to  the  goddess  Earth,  to  Neptune,  Themis, 
and  others,  but  it  was  at  length  assigned  to  Apollo,  and 
to  him  alone.  A  priestess  was  appointed  whose  office 
it  was  to  inhale  the  hallowed  air,  and  who  was  named 
the  Pythia.  She  was  prepared  for  this  duty  by  previ¬ 
ous  ablution  at  the  fountain  of  Castalia,  and  being 
crowned  with  laurel  was  seated  upon  a  tripod  similarly 
adorned,  which  was  placed  over  the  chasm  whence  the 
divine  afflatus  proceeded.  Her  inspired  words  while 
thus  situated  were  interpreted  by  the  priests. 

ORACLE  OF  TROPHONIUS 

Besides  the  oracles  of  Jupiter  and  Apollo,  at  Dodona 
and  Delphi,  that  of  Trophonius  in  Boeotia  was  held  in 
high  estimation.  Trophonius  and  Agamedes  were 
brothers.  They  were  distinguished  architects,  and  built 
the  temple  of  Apollo  at  Delphi,  and  a  treasury  for  King 
Hyrieus.  In  the  wall  of  the  treasury  they  placed  a 
stone,  in  such  a  manner  that  it  could  be  taken  out;  and 
by  this  means,  from  time  to  time,  purloined  the  treasure. 
This  amazed  Hyrieus,  for  his  locks  and  seals  were  un- 


298  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


touched,  and  yet  his  wealth  continually  diminished.  At 
length  he  set  a  trap  for  the  thief  and  Agamedes  was 
caught.  Trophonius,  unable  to  extricate  him,  and  fear¬ 
ing  that  when  found  he  would  be  compelled  by  torture 
to  discover  his  accomplice,  cut  off  his  head.  Trophonius 
himself  is  said  to  have  been  shortly  afterwards  swal¬ 
lowed  up  by  the  earth. 

The  oracle  of  Trophonius  was  at  Lebadea  in  Boeotia. 
During  a  great  drought  the  Boeotians,  it  is  said,  were 
directed  by  the  god  at  Delphi  to  seek  aid  of  Tropho¬ 
nius  at  Lebadea.  They  came  thither,  but  could  find 
no  oracle.  One  of  them,  however,  happening  to  see  a 
swarm  of  bees,  followed  them  to  a  chasm  in  the  earth, 
which  proved  to  be  the  place  sought. 

Peculiar  ceremonies  were  to  be  performed  by  the 
person  who  came  to  consult  the  oracle.  After  these 
preliminaries,  he  descended  into  the  cave  by  a  narrow 
passage.  This  place  could  be  entered  only  in  the  night. 
The  person  returned  from  the  cave  by  the  same  nar¬ 
row  passage,  but  walking  backwards.  He  appeared  mel¬ 
ancholy  and  dejected;  and  hence  the  proverb  which  was 
applied  to  a  person  low-spirited  and  gloomy,  “He  has 
been  consulting  the  oracle  of  Trophonius.” 

ORACLE  OF  ^SCULAPJUS 

There  were  numerous  oracles  of  iEsculapius,  but  the 
most  celebrated  one  was  at  Epidaurus.  Here  the  sick 
sought  responses  and  the  recovery  of  their  health  by 
sleeping  in  the  temple.  It  has  been  inferred  from  the 
accounts  that  have  come  down  to  us  that  the  treatment 
of  the  sick  resembled  what  is  now  called  Animal  Mag¬ 
netism  or  Mesmerism. 

Serpents  were  sacred  to  ^Esculapius,  probably  be¬ 
cause  of  a  superstition  that  those  animals  have  a  faculty 
of  renewing  their  youth  by  a  change  of  skin.  The  wor¬ 
ship  of  Hisculapius  was  introduced  into  Rome  in  a  time 
of  great  sickness,  and  an  embassy  sent  to  the  temple  of 
Epidaurus  to  entreat  the  aid  of  the  god.  HLsculapius 
was  propitious,  and  on  the  return  of  the  ship  accom¬ 
panied  it  in  the  form  of  a  serpent.  Arriving  in  the 


ORACLE  OF  APIS 


299. 


river  Tiber,  the  serpent  glided  from  the  vessel  and  took 
possession  of  an  island  in  the  river,  and  a  temple  was 
there  erected  to  his  honor. 

ORACLE  OF  APIS 

At  Memphis  the  sacred  bull  Apis  gave  answer  to  those 
who  consulted  him  by  the  manner  in  which  he  received 
or  rejected  what  was  presented  to  him.  If  the  bull 
refused  food  from  the  hand  of  the  inquirer  it  was  con¬ 
sidered  an  unfavorable  sign,  and  the  contrary  when  he 
received  it. 

It  has  been  a  question  whether  oracular  responses 
ought  to  be  ascribed  to  mere  human  contrivance  or  to 
the  agency  of  evil  spirits.  The  latter  opinion  has  been 
most  general  in  past  ages.  A  third  theory  has  been 
advanced  since  the  phenomena  of  Mesmerism  have  at¬ 
tracted  attention,  that  something  like  the  mesmeric 
trance  was  induced  in  the  Pythoness,  and  the  faculty 
of  clairvoyance  really  called  into  action. 

Another  question  is  as  to  the  time  when  the  Pagan 
oracles  ceased  to  give  responses.  Ancient  Christian 
writers  assert  that  they  became  silent  at  the  birth  of 
Christ,  and  were  heard  no  more  after  that  date.  Milton 
adopts  this  view  in  his  “Hymn  on  the  Nativity,”  and 
in  lines  of  solemn  and  elevated  beauty  pictures  the 
consternation  of  the  heathen  idols  at  the  advent  of  the 
Saviour : 

“The  oracles  are  dumb; 

No  voice  or  hideous  hum 

Rings  through  the  arched  roof  in  words  deceiving. 
Apollo  from  his  shrine 
Can  no  more  divine, 

With  hollow  shriek  the  steep  of  Delphos  leaving. 

No  nightly  trance  or  breathed  spell 

Inspires  the  pale-eyed  priest  from  the  prophetic  cell.” 

In  Cowper’s  poem  of  “Yardley  Oak”  there  are  some 
beautiful  mythological  allusions.  The  former  of  the 
two  following  is  to  the  fable  of  Castor  and  Pollux;  the 
latter  is  more  appropriate  to  our  present  subject.  Ad¬ 
dressing  the  acorn  he  says : 


300  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


“Thou  fell’st  mature;  and  in  the  loamy  clod, 

Swelling  with  vegetative  force  instinct, 

Didst  burst  thine  egg,  as  theirs  the  fabled  Twins 
Now  stars ;  two  lobes  protruding,  paired  exact ; 

A  leaf  succeeded  and  another  leaf, 

And,  all  the  elements  thy  puny  growth 
Fostering  propitious,  thou  becam’st  a  twig. 

Who  lived  when  thou  wast  such?  O,  couldst  thou  speak, 

As  in  Dodona  once  thy  kindred  trees 

Oracular,  I  would  not  curious  ask 

The  future,  best  unknown,  but  at  thy  mouth 

Inquisitive,  the  less  ambiguous  past” 

Tennyson,  in  his  “Talking  Oak,”  alludes  to  the  oaks 
of  Dodona  in  these  lines : 

“And  I  will  work  in  prose  and  rhyme, 

And  praise  thee  more  in  both 
Than  bard  has  honored  beech  or  lime, 

Or  that  Thessalian  growth 
In  which  the  swarthy  ring-dove  sat 
And  mystic  sentence  spoke;”  etc. 

Byron  alludes  to  the  oracle  of  Delphi  where,  speaking 
of  Rousseau,  whose  writings  he  conceives  did  much  to 
bring  on  the  French  revolution,  he  says : 

“For  then  he  was  inspired,  and  from  him  came, 

As  from  the  Pythian’s  mystic  cave  of  yore, 

Those  oracles  which  set  the  world  in  flame, 

Nor  ceased  to  burn  till  kingdoms  were  no  more.” 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

ORIGIN  OF  MYTHOLOGY — STATUES  OF  GODS  AND  GODDESSES 

— POETS  OF  MYTHOLOGY 

ORIGIN  OF  MYTHOLOGY 

Having  reached  the  close  of  our  series  of  stories  of 
Pagan  mythology,  an  inquiry  suggests  itself.  “Whence 
came  these  stories?  Have  they  a  foundation  in  truth, 
or  are  they  simply  dreams  of  the  imagination?”  Phi¬ 
losophers  have  suggested  various  theories  on  the  sub- 


ORIGIN  OF  MYTHOLOGY 


301 


ject;  and  1.  The  Scriptural  theory;  according  to  which 
all  mythological  legends  are  derived  from  the  narratives 
of  Scripture,  though  the  real  facts  have  been  disguised 
and  altered.  Thus  Deucalion  is  only  another  name  for 
Noah,  Hercules  for  Samson,  Arion  for  Jonah,  etc.  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh,  in  his  “History  of  the  World,”  says, 
“Jubal,  Tubal,  and  Tubal-Cain  were  Mercury,  Vulcan, 
and  Apollo,  inventors  of  Pasturage,  Smithing,  and  Mu¬ 
sic.  The  Dragon  which  kept  the  golden  apples  was  the 
serpent  that  beguiled  Eve.  Nimrod’s  tower  was  the 
attempt  of  the  Giants  against  Heaven.”  There  are  doubt¬ 
less  many  curious  coincidences  like  these,  but  the  theory 
cannot  without  extravagance  be  pushed  so  far  as  to  ac¬ 
count  for  any  great  proportion  of  the  stories. 

2.  The  Historical  theory;  according  to  which  all  the 
persons  mentioned  in  mythology  were  once  real  human 
beings,  and  the  legends  and  fabulous  traditions  relating 
to  them  are  merely  the  additions  and  embellishments  of 
later  times.  Thus  the  story  of  vEolus,  the  king  and  god 
of  the  winds,  is  supposed  to  have  risen  from  the  fact 
that  ^Eolus  was  the  ruler  of  some  islands  in  the  Tyrrhe¬ 
nian  Sea,  where  he  reigned  as  a  just  and  pious  king, 
and  taught  the  natives  the  use  of  sails  for  ships,  and 
how  to  tell  from  the  signs  of  the  atmosphere  the  changes 
of  the  weather  and  the  winds.  Cadmus,  who,  the  legend 
says,  sowed  the  earth  with  dragon’s  teeth,  from  which 
sprang  a  crop  of  armed  men,  was  in  fact  an  emigrant 
from  Phoenicia,  and  brought  with  him  into  Greece  the 
knowledge  of  the  letters  of  the  alphabet,  which  he  taught 
to  the  natives.  From  these  rudiments  of  learning 
sprung  civilization,  which  the  poets  have  always  been 
prone  to  describe  as  a  deterioration  of  man’s  first  estate, 
the  Golden  Age  of  innocence  and  simplicity. 

3.  The  Allegorical  theory  supposes  that  all  the  myths 
of  the  ancients  were  allegorical  and  symbolical,  and  con¬ 
tained  some  moral,  religious,  or  philosophical  truth  or 
historical  fact,  under  the  form  of  an  allegory,  but  came 
in  process  of  time  to  be  understood  literally.  Thus  Sat¬ 
urn,  who  devours  his  own  children,  is  the  same  power 
whom  the  Greeks  called  Cronos  (Time),  which  may 
truly  be  s  lid  to  destroy  whatever  it  has  brought  into 


302  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


existence.  The  story  of  Io  is  interpreted  in  a  similar 
manner.  Io  is  the  moon,  and  Argus  the  starry  sky, 
which,  as  it  were,  keeps  sleepless  watch  over  her.  The 
fabulous  wanderings  of  Io  represent  the  continual  rev¬ 
olutions  of  the  moon,  which  also  suggested  to  Milton 
the  same  idea. 

“To  behold  the  wandering  moon 
Riding  near  her  highest  noon, 

Like  one  that  had  been  led  astray 
In  the  heaven’s  wide,  pathless  way.” 

— II  Penseroso. 


4.  The  Physical  theory;  according  to  which  the  ele¬ 
ments  of  air,  fire,  and  water  were  originally  the  objects 
of  religious  adoration,  and  the  principal  deities  were 
personifications  of  the  powers  of  nature.  The  tran¬ 
sition  was  easy  from  a  personification  of  the  elements 
to  the  notion  of  supernatural  beings  presiding  over  and 
governing  the  different  objects  of  nature.  The  Greeks, 
whose  imagination  was  lively,  peopled  all  nature  with 
invisible  beings,  and  supposed  that  every  object,  from 
the  sun  and  sea  to  the  smallest  fountain  and  rivulet,  was 
under  the  care  of  some  particular  divinity.  Words¬ 
worth,  in  his  “Excursion,”  has  beautifully  developed 
this  view  of  Grecian  mythology : 

“In  that  fair  clime  the  lonely  herdsman,  stretched 
On  the  soft  grass  through  half  a  summer’s  day, 

With  music  lulled  his  indolent  repose; 

And,  in  some  fit  of  weariness,  if  he, 

When  his  own  breath  was  silent,  chanced  to  hear 
A  distant  strain  far  sweeter  than  the  sounds 
Which  his  poor  skill  could  make,  his  fancy  fetched 
Even  from  the  blazing  chariot  of  the  Sun 
A  beardless  youth  who  touched  a  golden  lute, 

And  filled  the  illumined  groves  with  ravishment. 

The  mighty  hunter,  lifting  up  his  eyes 
Toward  the  crescent  Moon,  with  grateful  heart 
Called  on  the  lovely  Wanderer  who  bestowed 
That  timely  light  to  share  his  joyous  sport; 

And  hence  a  beaming  goddess  with  her  nymphs 
Across  the  lawn  and  through  the  darksome  grove 
(Not  unaccompanied  with  tuneful  notes 
By  echo  multiplied  from  rock  or  cave) 

Swept  in  the  storm  of  chase,  as  moon  and  stars 


THE  OLYMPIAN  JUPITER 


303 


Glance  rapidly  along  the  clouded  heaven 

When  winds  are  blowing  strong.  The  Traveller  slaked 

His  thirst  from  rill  or  gushing  fount,  and  thanked 

The  Naiad.  Sunbeams  upon  distant  hills 

Gliding  apace  with  shadows  in  their  train, 

Might  with  small  help  from  fancy,  be  transformed 
Into  fleet  Oreads  sporting  visibly. 

The  Zephyrs,  fanning,  as  they  passed,  their  wings, 

Lacked  not  for  love  fair  objects  whom  they  wooed 
With  gentle  whisper.  Withered  boughs  grotesque, 
Stripped  of  their  leaves  and  twigs  by  hoary  age, 

From  depth  of  shaggy  covert  peeping  forth 
In  the  low  vale,  or  on  steep  mountain  side; 

And  sometimes  intermixed  with  stirring  horns 
Of  the  live  deer,  or  goat’s  depending  beard; 

These  were  the  lurking  Satyrs,  a  wild  brood 
Of  gamesome  deities;  or  Pan  himself, 

That  simple  shepherd’s  awe-inspiring  god.” 

All  the  theories  which  have  been  mentioned  are  true 
to  a  certain  extent.  It  would  therefore  be  more  cor¬ 
rect  to  say  that  the  mythology  of  a  nation  has  sprung 
from  all  these  sources  combined  than  from  any  one  in 
particular.  We  may  add  also  that  there  are  many 
myths  which  have  arisen  from  the  desire  of  man  to  ac¬ 
count  for  those  natural  phenomena  which  he  cannot 
understand;  and  not  a  few  have  had  their  rise  from  a 
similar  desire  of  giving  a  reason  for  the  names  of  places 
and  persons. 


STATUES  OF  THE  GODS 

To  adequately  represent  to  the  eye  the  ideas  intended 
to  be  conveyed  to  the  mind  under  the  several  names  of 
deities  was  a  task  which  called  into  exercise  the  high¬ 
est  powers  of  genius  and  art.  Of  the  many  attempts 
four  have  been  most  celebrated,  the  first  two  known  to 
us  only  by  the  descriptions  of  the  ancients,  the  others 
still  extant  and  the  acknowledged  masterpieces  of  the 
sculptor’s  art. 


THE  OLYMPIAN  JUPITER 

The  statue  of  the  Olympian  Jupiter  by  Phidias  was 
considered  the  highest  achievement  of  this  department 
of  Grecian  art.  It  was  of  colossal  dimensions,  and  was 


304  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


what  the  ancients  called  “chryselephantine that  is, 
composed  of  ivory  and  gold ;  the  parts  representing  flesh 
being  of  ivory  laid  on  a  core  of  wood  or  stone,  while 
the  drapery  and  other  ornaments  were  of  gold.  The 
height  of  the  figure  was  forty  feet,  on  a  pedestal  twelve 
feet  high.  The  god  was  represented  seated  on  his 
throne.  His  brows  were  crowned  with  a  wreath  of 
olive,  and  he  held  in  his  right  hand  a  sceptre,  and  in 
his  left  a  statue  of  Victory.  The  throne  was  of  cedar, 
adorned  with  gold  and  precious  stones. 

The  idea  which  the  artist  essayed  to  embody  was  that 
of  the  supreme  deity  of  the  Hellenic  (Grecian)  nation, 
enthroned  as  a  conqueror,  in  perfect  majesty  and  re¬ 
pose,  and  ruling  with  a  nod  the  subject  world.  Phidias 
avowed  that  he  took  his  idea  from  the  representation 
which  Homer  gives  in  the  first  book  of  the  “Iliad,”  in 
the  passage  thus  translated  by  Pope: 

“He  spoke  and  awful  bends  his  sable  brows, 

Shakes  his  rmbrosial  curls  and  gives  the  nod, 

The  stamp  of  fate  and  sanction  of  the  god. 

High  heaven  with  reverence  the  dread  signal  took, 

And  all  Olympus  to  the  centre  shook.”  1 

THE  MINERVA  OF  THE  PARTHENON 

This  was  also  the  work  of  Phidias.  It  stood  in  thq 
Parthenon,  or  temple  of  Minerva  at  Athens.  The  god¬ 
dess  was  represented  standing.  In  one  hand  she  held  a 
spear,  in  the  other  a  statue  of  Victory.  Her  helmet, 
highly  decorated,  was  surmounted  by  a  Sphinx.  The 
statue  was  forty  feet  in  height,  and,  like  the  Jupiter, 
composed  of  ivory  and  gold.  The  eyes  were  of  marble, 
and  probably  painted  to  represent  the  iris  and  pupil. 

1  Cowper’s  version  is  less  elegant,  but  truer  to  the  original: 

“He  ceased,  and  under  his  dark  brows  the  nod 
Vouchsafed  of  confirmation.  All  around 
The  sovereign’s  everlasting  head  his  curls 
Ambrosial  shook,  and  the  huge  mountain  reeled.” 

It  may  interest  our  readers  to  see  how  this  passage  appears  in  another 
famous  version,  that  which  was  issued  under  the  name  of  Tickell,  eon« 
temporaneously  with  Pope’s,  and  which,  being  by  many  attributed  to 
Addison,  led  to  the  quarrel  which  ensued  between  Addison  and  Pope: 

“This  said,  his  kingly  brow  the  sire  inclined; 

The  large  black  curls  fell  awful  from  behind, 

Thick  shadowing  the  stern  forehead  of  the  god; 

Olympus  trembled  at  the  almighty  nod.” 


THE  VENUS  DE’  MEDICI 


305 


The  Parthenon,  in  which  this  statue  stood,  was  also 
constructed  under  the  direction  and  superintendence  of 
Phidias.  Its  exterior  was  enriched  with  sculptures, 
many  of  them  from  the  hand  of  Phidias.  The  Elgin 
marbles,  now  in  the  British  Museum,  are  a  part  of 
them. 

Both  the  Jupiter  and  Minerva  of  Phidias  are  lost, 
but  there  is  good  ground  to  believe  that  we  have,  in 
several  extant  statues  and  busts,  the  artist’s  concep¬ 
tions  of  the  countenances  of  both.  They  are  character¬ 
ized  by  grave  and  dignified  beauty,  and  freedom  from 
any  transient  expression,  which  in  the  language  of  art 
is  called  repose. 

THE  VENUS  DE'  MEDICI 

The  Venus  of  the  Medici  is  so  called  from  its  hav¬ 
ing  been  in  the  possession  of  the  princes  of  that  name 
in  Rome  when  it  first  attracted  attention,  about  two 
hundred  years  ago.  An  inscription  on  the  base  records 
it  to  be  the  work  of  Cleomenes,  an  Athenian  sculptor 
of  200  B.C.,  but  the  authenticity  of  the  inscription  is 
doubtful.  There  is  a  story  that  the  artist  was  employed 
by  public  authority  to  make  a  statue  exhibiting  the  per¬ 
fection  of  female  beauty,  and  to  aid  him  in  his  task  the 
most  perfect  forms  the  city  could  supply  were  furnished 
him  for  models.  It  is  this  which  Thomson  alludes  to 
in  his  “Summer” : 

“So  stands  the  statue  that  enchants  the  world; 

So  bending  tries  to  veil  the  matchless  boast, 

The  mingled  beauties  of  exulting  Greece.” 

Byron  also  alludes  to  this  statue.  Speaking  of  the 
Florence  Museum,  he  says : 

“There,  too,  the  goddess  loves  in  stone,  and  fills 
The  air  around  with  beauty;”  etc. 

And  in  the  next  stanza, 

“Blood,  pulse,  and  breast  confirm  the  Dardan  shepherd’s  prize.” 

See  this  last  allusion  explained  in  Chapter  XXVII. 


'306  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


THE  APOLLO  BELVEDERE 

The  most  highly  esteemed  of  all  the  remains  of  an¬ 
cient  sculpture  is  the  statue  of  Apollo,  called  the  Belve¬ 
dere,  from  the  name  of  the  apartment  of  the  Pope’s 
palace  at  Rome  in  which  it  was  placed.  The  artist 
is  unknown.  It  is  supposed  to  be  a  work  of  Roman 
art,  of  about  the  first  century  of  our  era.  It  is  a  stand¬ 
ing  figure,  in  marble,  more  than  seven  feet  high,  naked 
except  for  the  cloak  which  is  fastened  around  the  neck 
and  hangs  over  the  extended  left  arm.  It  is  supposed 
to  represent  the  god  in  the  moment  when  he  has  shot 
the  arrow  to  destroy  the  monster  Python.  (See  Chapter 
III.)  The  victorious  divinity  is  in  the  act  of  step¬ 
ping  forward.  The  left  arm,  which  seems  to  have  held 
the  bow,  is  outstretched,  and  the  head  is  turned  in  the 
same  direction.  In  attitude  and  proportion  the  graceful 
majesty  of  the  figure  is  unsurpassed.  The  effect  is  com¬ 
pleted  by  the  countenance,  where  on  the  perfection  of 
youthful  godlike  beauty  there  dwells  the  consciousness 
of  triumphant  power. 

THE  DIANA  A  LA  BICHE 

The  Diana  of  the  Hind,  in  the  palace  of  the  Louvre, 
may  be  considered  the  counterpart  to  the  Apollo  Belve¬ 
dere.  The  attitude  much  resembles  that  of  the  Apollo, 
the  sizes  correspond  and  also  the  style  of  execution. 
It  is  a  work  of  the  highest  order,  though  by  no  means 
equal  to  the  Apollo.  The  attitude  is  that  of  hurried  and 
eager  motion,  the  face  that  of  a  huntress  in  the  ex¬ 
citement  of  the  chase.  The  left  hand  is  extended  over 
the  forehead  of  the  Hind,  which  runs  by  her  side,  the 
right  arm  reaches  backward  over  the  shoulder  to  draw 
an  arrow  from  the  quiver. 

THE  POETS  OF  MYTHOLOGY 

Homer,  from  whose  poems  of  the  “Iliad”  and  “Odys¬ 
sey”  we  have  taken  the  chief  part  of  our  chapters  of 
the  Trojan  war  and  the  return  of  the  Grecians,  is 


VIRGIL 


30 7. 


almost  as  mythical  a  personage  as  the  heroes  he  cele¬ 
brates.  The  traditionary  story  is  that  he  was  a  wander¬ 
ing  minstrel,  blind  and  old,  who  travelled  from  place  to 
place  singing  his  lays  to  the  music  of  his  harp,  in  the 
courts  of  princes  or  the  cottages  of  peasants,  and  de¬ 
pendent  upon  the  voluntary  offerings  of  his  hearers  for 
support.  Byron  calls  him  “The  blind  old  man  of  Scio’s 
rocky  isle,”  and  a  well-known  epigram,  alluding  to  the 
uncertainty  of  the  fact  of  his  birthplace,  says : 

“Seven  wealthy  towns  contend  for  Homer  dead, 

Through  which  the  living  Homer  begged  his  bread.,v 

These  seven  were  Smyrna,  Scio,  Rhodes,  Colophon, 
Salamis,  Argos,  and  Athens. 

Modern  scholars  have  doubted  whether  the  Homeric 
poems  are  the  work  of  any  single  mind.  This  arises 
from  the  difficulty  of  believing  that  poems  of  such 
length  could  have  been  committed  to  writing  at  so  early 
an  age  as  that  usually  assigned  to  these,  an  age  earlier 
than  the  date  of  any  remaining  inscriptions  or  coins, 
and  when  no  materials  capable  of  containing  such  long 
productions  were  yet  introduced  into  use.  On  the  other 
hand  it  is  asked  how  poems  of  such  length  could  have 
been  handed  down  from  age  to  age  by  means  of  the 
memory  alone.  This  is  answered  by  the  statement  that 
there  was  a  professional  body  of  men,  called  Rhap- 
sodists,  who  recited  the  poems  of  others,  and  whose 
business  it  was  to  commit  to  memory  and  rehearse  for 
pay  the  national  and  patriotic  legends. 

The  prevailing  opinion  of  the  learned,  at  this  time, 
seems  to  be  that  the  framework  and  much  of  the  struc¬ 
ture  of  the  poems  belong  to,  Homer,  but  that  there  are 
numerous  interpolations  and  additions  by  other  hands. 

The  date  assigned  to  Homer,  on  the  authority  of 
Herodotus,  is  850  B.C. 


VIRGIL 

Virgil,  called  also  by  his  surname,  Maro,  from  whose 
poem  of  the  “TEneid”  we  have  taken  the  story  of  Hineas, 
was  one  of  the  great  poets  who  made  the  reign  of  the 


308  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


Roman  emperor  Augustus  so  celebrated,  under  the  name 
of  the  Augustan  age.  Virgil  was  born  in  Mantua  in  the 
year  70  B.C.  His  great  poem  is  ranked  next  to  those 
of  Homer,  in  the  highest  class  of  poetical  composition, 
the  Epic.  Virgil  is  far  inferior  to  Homer  in  originality 
and  invention,  but  superior  to  him  in  correctness  and 
elegance.  To  critics  of  English  lineage  Milton  alone 
of  modern  poets  seems  worthy  to  be  classed  with  these 
illustrious  ancients.  His  poem  of  “Paradise  Lost,”  from 
which  we  have  borrowed  so  many  illustrations,  is  in  many 
respects  equal,  in  some  superior,  to  either  of  the  great 
works  of  antiquity.  The  following  epigram  of  Dryden 
characterizes  the  three  poets  with  as  much  truth  as  it  is 
usual  to  find  in  such  pointed  criticism: 

“On  Milton 

“Three  poets  in  three  different  ages  born, 

Greece,  Italy,  and  England  did  adorn. 

The  first  in  loftiness  of  soul  surpassed, 

The  next  in  majesty,  in  both  the  last. 

The  force  of  nature  could  no  further  go; 

To  make  a  third  she  joined  the  other  two.” 

From  Cowper’s  “Table  Talk” : 

“Ages  elapsed  ere  Homer's  lamp  appeared, 

And  ages  ere  the  Mantuan  swan  was  heard. 

To  carry  nature  lengths  unknown  before, 

To  give  a  Milton  birth,  asked  ages  more. 

Thus  genius  rose  and  set  at  ordered  times. 

And  shot  a  dayspring  into  distant  climes, 

Ennobling  every  region  that  he  chose; 

He  sunk  in  Greece,  in  Italy  he  rose, 

And,  tedious  years  of  Gothic  darkness  past, 

Emerged  all  splendor  in  our  isle  at  last. 

Thus  lovely  Halcyons  dive  into  the  main, 

Then  show  far  off  their  shining  plumes  again.” 

Ovid, 

often  alluded  to  in  poetry  by  his  other  name  of  Naso, 
was  born  in  the  year  43  B.C.  He  was  educated  for 
public  life  and  held  some  offices  of  considerable  dignity, 
but  poetry  was  his  delight,  and  he  early  resolved  to  de¬ 
vote  himself  to  it.  He  accordingly  sought  the  society 


OVID 


309 


of  the  contemporary  poets,  and  was  acquainted  with 
Horace  and  saw  Virgil,  though  the  latter  died  when 
Ovid  was  yet  too  young  and  undistinguished  to  have 
formed  his  acquaintance.  Ovid  spent  an  easy  life  at 
Rome  in  the  enjoyment  of  a  competent  income.  He  was 
intimate  with  the  family  of  Augustus,  the  emperor,  and 
it  is  supposed  that  some  serious  offence  given  to  some 
member  of  that  family  was  the  cause  of  an  event  which 
reversed  the  poet’s  happy  circumstances  and  clouded  all 
the  latter  portion  of  his  life.  At  the  age  of  fifty  he 
was  banished  from  Rome,  and  ordered  to  betake  him¬ 
self  to  Tomi,  on  the  borders  of  the  Black  Sea.  Here, 
among  the  barbarous  people  and  in  a  severe  climate,  the 
poet,  who  had  been  accustomed  to  all  the  pleasures  of  a 
luxurious  capital  and  the  society  of  his  most  distin¬ 
guished  contemporaries,  spent  the  last  ten  years  of  his 
life,  worn  out  with  grief  and  anxiety.  His  only  con¬ 
solation  in  exile  was  to  address  his  wife  and  absent 
friends,  and  his  letters  were  all  poetical.  Though  these 
poems  (the  “Trista”  and  “Letters  from  Pontus”)  have 
no  other  topic  than  the  poet’s  sorrows,  his  exquisite 
taste  and  fruitful  invention  have  redeemed  them  from 
the  charge  of  being  tedious,  and  they  are  read  with 
pleasure  and  even  with  sympathy. 

The  two  great  works  of  Ovid  are  his  “Metamor¬ 
phoses”  and  his  “Fasti.”  They  are  both  mythological 
poems,  and  from  the  former  we  have  taken  most  of  our 
stories  of  Grecian  and  Roman  mythology.  A  late  writer 
thus  characterizes  these  poems : 

“The  rich  mythology  of  Greece  furnished  Ovid,  as 
it  may  still  furnish  the  poet,  the  painter,  and  the  sculp¬ 
tor,  with  materials  for  his  art.  With  exquisite  taste, 
simplicity,  and  pathos  he  has  narrated  the  fabulous  tra¬ 
ditions  of  early  ages,  and  given  to  them  that  appearance 
of  reality  which  only  a  master  hand  could  impart.  His 
pictures  of  nature  are  striking  and  true;  he  selects  with 
care  that  which  is  appropriate;  he  rejects  the  superflu¬ 
ous;  and  when  he  has  completed  his  work,  it  is  neither 
defective  nor  redundant.  The  ‘Metamorphoses’  are  read 
with  pleasure  by  youth,  and  are  re-read  in  more  ad¬ 
vanced  age  with  still  greater  delight.  The  poet  ventured 


310  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


to  predict  that  his  poem  would  survive  him,  and  be  read 
wherever  the  Roman  name  was  known.” 

The  prediction  above  alluded  to  is  contained  in  the 
closing  lines  of  the  “Metamorphoses,”  of  which  we  give 
a  literal  translation  below : 

“And  now  I  close  my  work,  which  not  the  ire 
Of  Jove,  nor  tooth  of  time,  nor  sword,  nor  fire 
Shall  bring  to  nought.  Come  when  it  will  that  day 
Which  o’er  the  body,  not  the  mind,  has  sway, 

And  snatch  the  remnant  of  my  life  away, 

My  better  part  above  the  stars  shall  soar, 

And  my  renown  endure  forevermore. 

Where’er  the  Roman  arms  and  arts  shall  spread, 

There  by  the  people  shall  my  book  be  read ; 

And,  if  aught  true  in  poet’s  visions  be, 

My  name  and  fame  have  immortality.” 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

MODERN  MONSTERS - THE  PHCENIX - BASILISK - UNICORN 

- SALAMANDER 

MODERN  MONSTERS 

There  is  a  set  of  imaginary  beings  which  seem  to 
have  been  the  successors  of  the  “Gorgons,  Hydras,  and 
Chimeras  dire”  of  the  old  superstitions,  and,  having  no 
connection  with  the  false  gods  of  Paganism,  to  have 
continued  to  enjoy  an  existence  in  the  popular  belief 
after  Paganism  was  superseded  by  Christianity.  They 
are  mentioned  perhaps  by  the  classical  writers,  but  their 
chief  popularity  and  currency  seem  to  have  been  in  more 
modern  times.  We  seek  our  accounts  of  them  not  so 
much  in  the  poetry  of  the  ancients  as  in  the  old  natural 
history  books  and  narrations  of  travellers.  The  accounts 
which  we  are  about  to  give  are  taken  chiefly  from  the 
Penny  Cyclopedia. 


THE  PHCENIX 

Ovid  tells  the  story  of  the  Phoenix  as  follows :  “Most 
beings  spring  from  other  individuals;  but  there  is  a 
certain  kind  which  reproduces  itself.  The  Assyrians 


THE  PHCENIX 


311 


call  it  the  Phoenix.  It  does  not  live  on  fruit  or  flowers, 
but  on  frankincense  and  odoriferous  gums.  When  it 
has  lived  five  hundred  years,  it  builds  itself  a  nest  in 
the  branches  of  an  oak,  or  on  the  top  of  a  palm  tree. 
In  this  it  collects  cinnamon,  and  spikenard,  and  myrrh, 
and  of  these  materials  builds  a  pile  on  which  it  de¬ 
posits  itself,  and  dying,  breathes  out  its  last  breath 
amidst  odors.  From  the  body  of  the  parent  bird,  a 
young  Phoenix  issues  forth,  destined  to  live  as  long  a 
life  as  its  predecessor.  When  this  has  grown  up  and 
gained  sufficient  strength,  it  lifts  its  nest  from  the  tree 
(its  own  cradle  and  its  parent’s  sepulchre),  and  carries 
it  to  the  city  of  Heliopolis  in  Egypt,  and  deposits  it  in 
the  temple  of  the  Sun.” 

Such  is  the  account  given  by  a  poet.  Now  let  us  see 
that  of  a  philosophic  historian.  Tacitus  says,  “In  the 
consulship  of  Paulus  Fabius  (A.D.  34)  the  miraculous 
bird  known  to  the  world  by  the  name  of  the  Phoenix, 
after  disappearing  for  a  series  of  ages,  revisited  Egypt. 
It  was  attended  in  its  flight  by  a  group  of  various  birds, 
all  attracted  by  the  novelty,  and  gazing  with  wonder  at 
so  beautiful  an  appearance.”  He  then  gives  an  account 
of  the  bird,  not  varying  materially  from  the  preceding, 
but  adding  some  details.  “The  first  care  of  the  young 
bird  as  soon  as  fledged,  and  able  to  trust  to  his  wings, 
is  to  perform  the  obsequies  of  his  father.  But  this  duty 
is  not  undertaken  rashly.  He  collects  a  quantity  of 
myrrh,  and  to  try  his  strength  makes  frequent  excur¬ 
sions  with  a  load  on  his  back.  When  he  has  gained  suf¬ 
ficient  confidence  in  his  own  vigor,  he  takes  up  the  body 
of  his  father  and  flies  with  it  to  the  altar  of  the  Sun, 
where  he  leaves  it  to  be  consumed  in  flames  of  fra¬ 
grance.”  Other  writers  add  a  few  particulars.  The 
myrrh  is  compacted  in  the  form  of  an  egg,  in  which  the 
dead  Phoenix  is  enclosed.  From  the  mouldering  flesh 
of  the  dead  bird  a  worm  springs,  and  this  worm,  when 
grown  large,  is  transformed  into  a  bird.  Herodotus 
describes  the  bird,  though  he  says,  “I  have  not  seen  it 
myself,  except  in  a  picture.  Part  of  his  plumage  is 
gold-colored,  and  part  crimson;  and  he  is  for  the  most 
part  very  much  like  an  eagle  in  outline  and  bulk.” 


312  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


The  first  writer  who  disclaimed  a  belief  in  the  ex¬ 
istence  of  the  Phoenix  was  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  in  his 
“Vulgar  Errors,”  published  in  1646.  He  was  replied 
to  a  few  years  later  by  Alexander  Ross,  who  says,  in 
answer  to  the  objection  of  the  Phoenix  so  seldom  making 
his  appearance,  “His  instinct  teaches  him  to  keep  out 
of  the  way  of  the  tyrant  of  the  creation,  man,  for  if  he 
were  to  be  got  at,  some  wealthy  glutton  would  surely 
devour  him,  though  there  were  no  more  in  the  world.” 

Dryden  in  one  of  his  early  poems  has  this  allusion  to 
the  Phoenix : 

“So  when  the  new-born  Phoenix  first  is  seen, 

Her  feathered  subjects  all  adore  their  queen, 

And  while  she  makes  her  progress  through  the  East, 

Frdm  every  grove  her  numerous  train’s  increased; 

Each  poet  of  the  air  her  glory  sings, 

And  round  him  the  pleased  audience  clap  their  wings.” 

Milton,  in  “Paradise  Lost,”  Book  V.,  compares  the 
angel  Raphael  descending  to  earth  to  a  Phoenix: 

“  .  .  Down  thither,  prone  in  flight 
He  speeds,  and  through  the  vast  ethereal  sky 
Sails  between  worlds  and  worlds,  with  steady  wing, 

Now  on  the  polar  winds,  then  with  quick  fan 
Winnows  the  buxom  air;  till  within  soar 
Of  towering  eagles,  to  all  the  fowls  he  seems 
A  Phoenix,  gazed  by  all;  as  that  sole  bird 
When,  to  enshrine  his  relics  in  the  sun’s 
Bright  temple,  to  Egyptian  Thebes  he  flies.” 

THE  COCKATRICE,  OR  BASILISK 

This  animal  was  called  the  king  of  the  serpents.  In 
confirmation  of  his  royalty,  he  was  said  to  be  endowed 
with  a  crest,  or  comb  upon  the  head,  constituting  a 
crown.  He  was  supposed  to  be  produced  from  the  egg 
of  a  cock  hatched  under  toads  or  serpents.  There  were 
several  species  of  this  animal.  One  species  burned  up 
whatever  they  approached;  a  second  were  a  kind  of 
wandering  Medusa’s  heads,  and  their  look  caused  an  in¬ 
stant  horror  which  was  immediately  followed  by  death. 
In  Shakspeare’s  play  of  “Richard  the  Third,”  Lady 


THE  COCKATRICE,  OR  BASILISK  313 


Anne,  in  answer  to  Richard’s  compliment  on  her  eyes, 
says,  “Would  they  were  basilisk’s,  to  strike  thee 
dead !” 

The  basilisks  were  called  kings  of  serpents  because 
all  other  serpents  and  snakes,  behaving  like  good  sub¬ 
jects,  and  wisely  not  wishing  to  be  burned  up  or  struck 
dead,  fled  the  moment  they  heard  the  distant  hiss  of 
their  king,  although  they  might  be  in  full  feed  upon 
the  most  delicious  prey,  leaving  the  sole  enjoyment  of 
the  banquet  to  the  royal  monster. 

The  Roman  naturalist  Pliny  thus  describes  him:  “He 
does  not  impel  his  body,  like  other  serpents,  by  a  mul¬ 
tiplied  flexion,  but  advances  lofty  and  upright.  He 
kills  the  shrubs,  not  only  by  contact,  but  by  breathing 
on  them,  and  splits  the  rocks,  such  power  of  evil  is  there 
in  him.”  It  was  formerly  believed  that  if  killed  by  a 
spear  from  on  horseback  the  power  of  the  poison  con¬ 
ducted  through  the  weapon  killed  not  only  the  rider, 
but  the  horse  also.  To  this  Lucan  alludes  in  these 
lines : 

“What  though  the  Moor  the  basilisk  hath  slain. 

And  pinned  him  lifeless  to  the  sandy  plain. 

Up  through  the  spear  the  subtle  venom  flies, 

The  hand  imbibes  it,  and  the  victor  dies.” 

Such  a  prodigy  was  not  likely  to  be  passed  over  in 
the  legends  of  the  saints.  Accordingly  we  find  it  re¬ 
corded  that  a  certain  holy  man,  going  to  a  fountain  in 
the  desert,  suddenly  beheld  a  basilisk.  He  immediately 
raised  his  eyes  to  heaven,  and  with  a  pious  appeal  to 
the  Deity  laid  the  monster  dead  at  his  feet. 

These  wonderful  powers  of  the  basilisk  are  attested 
by  a  host  of  learned  persons,  such  as  Galen,  Avicenna, 
Scaliger,  and  others.  Occasionally  one  would  demur  to 
some  part  of  the  tale  while  he  admitted  the  rest.  Jon- 
ston,  a  learned  physician,  sagely  remarks,  “I  would 
scarcely  believe  that  it  kills  with  its  look,  for  who  could 
have  seen  it  and  lived  to  tell  the  story?”  The  worthy 
sage  was  not  aware  that  those  who  went  to  hunt  the 
basilisk  of  this  sort  took  with  them  a  mirror,  which  re¬ 
flected  back  the  deadly  glare  upon  its  author,  and  by  a 


314  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


kind  of  poetical  justice  slew  the  basilisk  with  his  own 
weapon. 

But  what  was  to  attack  this  terrible  and  unapproach¬ 
able  monster?  There  is  an  old  saying  that  “everything 
has  its  enemy” — and  the  cockatrice  quailed  before  the 
weasel.  The  basilisk  might  look  daggers,  the  weasel 
cared  not,  but  advanced  boldly  to  the  conflict.  When 
bitten,  the  weasel  retired  for  a  moment  to  eat  some 
rue,  which  was  the  only  plant  the  basilisks  could  not 
wither,  returned  with  renewed  strength  and  soundness 
to  the  charge,  and  never  left  the  enemy  till  he  was 
stretched  dead  on  the  plain.  The  monster,  too,  as  if 
conscious  of  the  irregular  way  in  which  he  came  into 
the  world,  was  supposed  to  have  a  great  antipathy  to  a 
cock;  and  well  he  might,  for  as  soon  as  he  heard  the 
cock  crow  he  expired. 

The  basilisk  was  of  some  use  after  death.  Thus  we 
read  that  its  carcass  was  suspended  in  the  temple  of 
Apollo,  and  in  private  houses,  as  a  sovereign  remedy 
against  spiders,  and  that  it  was  also  hung  up  in  the 
temple  of  Diana,  for  which  reason  no  swallow  ever 
dared  enter  the  sacred  place. 

The  reader  will,  we  apprehend,  by  this  time  have  had 
enough  of  absurdities,  but  still  we  can  imagine  his  anxi¬ 
ety  to  know  what  a  cockatrice  was  like.  The  follow¬ 
ing  is  from  Aldrovandus,  a  celebrated  naturalist  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  whose  work  on  natural  history,  in 
thirteen  folio  volumes,  contains  with  much  that  is  valu¬ 
able  a  large  proportion  of  fables  and  inutilities.  In 
particular  he  is  so  ample  on  the  subject  of  the  cock  and 
the  bull  that  from  his  practice,  all  rambling,  gossiping 
tales  of  doubtful  credibility  are  called  cock  and  bull 
stories.  Aldrovandus,  however,  deserves  our  respect  and 
esteem  as  the  founder  of  a  botanic  garden,  and  as  a 
pioneer  in  the  now  prevalent  custom  of  making  scientific 
collections  for  purposes  of  investigation  and  research. 

Shelley,  in  his  “Ode  to  Naples,”  full  of  the  enthu¬ 
siasm  excited  by  the  intelligence  of  the  proclamation 
of  a  Constitutional  Government  at  Naples,  in  1820,  thus 
uses  an  allusion  to  the  basilisk : 


THE  UNICORN 


315 


“What  though  Cimmerian  anarchs  dare  blaspheme 
Freedom  and  thee?  a  new  Actaeon’s  error 
Shall  theirs  have  been, — devoured  by  their  own  hounds! 

Be  thou  like  the  imperial  basilisk, 

Killing  thy  foe  with  unapparent  wounds ! 

Gaze  on  oppression,  till  at  that  dread  risk, 

Aghast  she  pass  from  the  earth’s  disk. 

Fear  not,  but  gaze, — for  freemen  mightier  grow, 

And  slaves  more  feeble,  gazing  on  their  foe.” 


THE  UNICORN 

Pliny,  the  Roman  naturalist,  out  of  whose  account 
of  the  unicorn  most  of  the  modern  unicorns  have  been 
described  and  figured,  records  it  as  “a  very  ferocious 
beast,  similar  in  the  rest  of  its  body  to  a  horse,  with 
the  head  of  a  deer,  the  feet  of  an  elephant,  the  tail  of 
a  boar,  a  deep,  bellowing  voice,  and  a  single  black  horn, 
two  cubits  in  length,  standing  out  in  the  middle  of  its 
forehead.”  He  adds  that  “it  cannot  be  taken  alive;” 
and  some  such  excuse  may  have  been  necessary  in  those 
days  for  not  producing  the  living  animal  upon  the  arena 
of  the  amphitheatre. 

The  unicorn  seems  to  have  been  a  sad  puzzle  to  the 
hunters,  who  hardly  knew  how  to  come  at  so  valuable 
a  piece  of  game.  Some  described  the  horn  as  movable 
at  the  will  of  the  animal,  a  kind  of  small  sword,  in  short, 
with  which  no  hunter  who  was  not  exceedingly  cunning 
in  fence  could  have  a  chance.  Others  maintained  that 
all  the  animal’s  strength  lay  in  its  horn,  and  that  when 
hard  pressed  in  pursuit,  it  would  throw  itself  from  the 
pinnacle  of  the  highest  rocks  horn  foremost,  so  as  to 
pitch  upon  it,  and  then  quietly  march  off  not  a  whit 
the  worse  for  its  fall. 

But  it  seems  they  found  out  how  to  circumvent  the 
poor  unicorn  at  last.  They  discovered  that  it  was  a 
great  lover  of  purity  and  innocence,  so  they  took  the 
field  with  a  young  virgin ,  who  was  placed  in  the  un¬ 
suspecting  admirer’s  way.  When  the  unicorn  spied  her, 
he  approached  with  all  reverence,  couched  beside  her, 
and  laying  his  head  in  her  lap,  fell  asleep.  The  treach¬ 
erous  virgin  then  gave  a  signal,  and  the  hunters  made 
in  and  captured  the  simple  beast. 


316  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


Modern  zoologists,  disgusted  as  they  well  may  be 
with  such  fables  as  these,  disbelieve  generally  the  ex¬ 
istence  of  the  unicorn.  Yet  there  are  animals  bearing  on 
their  heads  a  bony  protuberance  more  or  less  like  a  horn, 
which  may  have  given  rise  to  the  story.  The  rhinoceros 
horn,  as  it  is  called,  is  such  a  protuberance,  though  it 
does  not  exceed  a  few  inches  in  height,  and  is  far  from 
agreeing  with  the  descriptions  of  the  horn  of  the  uni¬ 
corn.  The  nearest  approach  to  a  horn  in  the  middle 
of  the  forehead  is  exhibited  in  the  bony  protuberance 
on  the  forehead  of  the  giraffe;  but  this  also  is  short 
and  blunt,  and  is  not  the  only  horn  of  the  animal,  but 
a  third  horn,  standing  in  front  of  the  two  others.  In 
fine,  though  it  would  be  presumptuous  to  deny  the  ex¬ 
istence  of  a  one-horned  quadruped  other  than  the  rhi¬ 
noceros,  it  may  be  safely  stated  that  the  insertion  of  a 
long  and  solid  horn  in  the  living  forehead  of  a  horse¬ 
like  or  deer-like  animal  is  as  near  an  impossibility  as 
anything  can  be. 


THE  SALAMANDER 

The  following  is  from  the  “Life  of  Benvenuto  Cel¬ 
lini/’  an  Italian  artist  of  the  sixteenth  century,  written 
by  himself :  “When  I  was  about  five  years  of  age,  my 
father,  happening  to  be  in  a  little  room  in  which  they 
had  been  washing,  and  where  there  was  a  good  fire  of 
oak  burning,  looked  into  the  flames  and  saw  a  little 
animal  resembling  a  lizard,  which  could  live  in  the 
hottest  part  of  that  element.  Instantly  perceiving  what 
it  was,  he  called  for  my  sister  and  me,  and  after  he  had 
shown  us  the  creature,  he  gave  me  a  box  on  the  ear.  I 
fell  a-crying,  while  he,  soothing  me  with  caresses,  spoke 
these  words :  ‘My  dear  child,  I  do  not  give  you  that  blow 
for  any  fault  you  have  committed,  but  that  you  may  rec¬ 
ollect  that  the  little  creature  you  see  in  the  fire  is  a 
salamander;  such  a  one  as  never  was  beheld  before  to 
my  knowledge/  So  saying  he  embraced  me,  and  gave 
me  some  money.” 

It  seems  unreasonable  to  doubt  a  story  of  which 
Signor  Cellini  was  both  an  eye  and  ear  witness.  Add 


THE  SALAMANDER 


317 


to  which  the  authority  of  numerous  sage  philosophers, 
at  the  head  of  whom  are  Aristotle  and  Pliny,  affirms 
this  power  of  the  salamander.  According  to  them,  the 
animal  not  only  resists  fire,  but  extinguishes  it,  and  when 
he  sees  the  flame  charges  it  as  an  enemy  which  he  well 
knows  how  to  vanquish. 

That  the  skin  of  an  animal  which  could  resist  the 
action  of  fire  should  be  considered  proof  against  that 
element  is  not  to  be  wondered  at.  We  accordingly  find 
that  a  cloth  made  of  the  skin  of  salamanders  (for  there 
really  is  such  an  animal,  a  kind  of  lizard)  was  incom¬ 
bustible,  and  very  valuable  for  wrapping  up  such  articles 
as  were  too  precious  to  be  intrusted  to  any  other  en¬ 
velopes.  These  fire-proof  cloths  were  actually  produced, 
said  to  be  made  of  salamander’s  wool,  though  the  know¬ 
ing  ones  detected  that  the  substance  of  which  they 
were  composed  was  asbestos,  a  mineral,  which  is  in 
fine  filaments  capable  of  being  woven  into  a  flexible 
cloth. 

The  foundation  of  the  above  fables  is  supposed  to  be 
the  fact  that  the  salamander  really  does  secrete  from 
the  pores  of  his  body  a  milky  juice,  which  when  he  is 
irritated  is  produced  in  considerable  quantity,  and  would 
doubtless,  for  a  few  moments,  defend  the  body  from 
fire.  Then  it  is  a  hibernating  animal,  and  in  winter  re¬ 
tires  to  some  hollow  tree  or  other  cavity,  where  it  coils 
itself  up  and  remains  in  a  torpid  state  till  the  spring 
again  calls  it  forth.  It  may  therefore  sometimes  be 
carried  with  the  fuel  to  the  fire,  and  wake  up  only  time 
enough  to  put  forth  all  its  faculties  for  its  defence. 
Its  viscous  juice  would  do  good  service,  and  all  who 
profess  to  have  seen  it,  acknowledge  that  it  got  out  of 
the  fire  as  fast  as  its  legs  could  carry  it;  indeed,  too 
fast  for  them  ever  to  make  prize  of  one,  except  in  one 
instance,  and  in  that  one  the  animal’s  feet  and  some 
parts  of  its  body  were  badly  burned. 

Dr.  Young,  in  the  “Night  Thoughts,”  with  more 
quaintness  than  good  taste,  compares  the  sceptic  who 
can  remain  unmoved  in  the  contemplation  of  the  starry 
heavens  to  a  salamander  unwarmed  in  the  fire : 


318  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


“An  undevout  astronomer  is  mad! 

•  •  •  •  • 

“O,  what  a  genius  must  inform  the  skies! 
And  is  Lorenzo’s  salamander-heart 
Cold  and  untouched  amid  these  sacred  fires  ?” 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

EASTERN  MYTHOLOGY - ZOROASTER — HINDU  MYTHOLOGY 

- CASTES - BUDDHA - GRAND  LAMA 

ZOROASTER 

Our  knowledge  of  the  religion  of  the  ancient  Persians 
is  principally  derived  from  the  Zendavesta,  or  sacred 
books  of  that  people.  Zoroaster  was  the  founder  of 
their  religion,  or  rather  the  reformer  of  the  religion 
which  preceded  him.  The  time  when  he  lived  is  doubt¬ 
ful,  but  it  is  certain  that  his  system  became  the  dom¬ 
inant  religion  of  Western  Asia  from  the  time  of  Cyrus 
(550  B.C.)  to  the  conquest  of  Persia  by  Alexander  the 
Great.  Under  the  Macedonian  monarchy  the  doctrines 
of  Zoroaster  appear  to  have  been  considerably  cor¬ 
rupted  by  the  introduction  of  foreign  opinions,  but  they 
afterwards  recovered  their  ascendency. 

Zoroaster  taught  the  existence  of  a  supreme  being, 
who  created  two  other  mighty  beings  and  imparted  to 
them  as  much  of  his  own  nature  as  seemed  good  to  him. 
Of  these,  Ormuzd  (called  by  the  Greeks  Oromasdes) 
remained  faithful  to  his  creator,  and  was  regarded  as 
the  source  of  all  good,  while  Ahriman  (Arimanes) 
rebelled,  and  became  the  author  of  all  evil  upon  the 
earth.  Ormuzd  created  man  and  supplied  him  with  all 
the  materials  of  happiness;  but  Ahriman  marred  this 
happiness  by  introducing  evil  into  the  world,  and  creat¬ 
ing  savage  beasts  and  poisonous  reptiles  and  plants.  In 
consequence  of  this,  evil  and  good  are  now  mingled  to¬ 
gether  in  every  part  of  the  world,  and  the  followers  of 
good  and  evil — the  adherents  of  Ormuzd  and  Ahriman — 
carry  on  incessant  war.  But  this  state  of  things  will  not 


ZOROASTER 


319 


last  forever.  The  time  will  come  when  the  adherents  of 
Ormuzd  shall  everywhere  be  victorious,  and  Ahriman 
and  his  followers  be  consigned  to  darkness  forever. 

The  religious  rites  of  the  ancient  Persians  were  ex¬ 
ceedingly  simple.  They  used  neither  temples,  altars,  nor 
statues,  and  performed  their  sacrifices  on  the  tops  of 
mountains.  They  adored  fire,  light,  and  the  sun  as  em¬ 
blems  of  Ormuzd,  the  source  of  all  light  and  purity,  but 
did  not  regard  them  as  independent  deities.  The  re¬ 
ligious  rites  and  ceremonies  were  regulated  by  the 
priests,  who  were  called  Magi.  The  learning  of  the 
Magi  was  connected  with  astrology  and  enchantment, 
in  which  they  were  so  celebrated  that  their  name  was 
applied  to  all  orders  of  magicians  and  enchanters. 

Wordsworth  thus  alludes  to  the  worship  of  the  Per¬ 
sians  : 


.  .  the  Persian, — zealous  to  reject 
Altar  and  Image,  and  the  inclusive  walls 
And  roofs  of  temples  built  by  human  hands, — 

The  loftiest  heights  ascending,  from  their  tops, 

With  myrtle-wreathed  Tiara  on  his  brows, 

Presented  sacrifice  to  Moon  and  Stars, 

And  to  the  Winds  and  mother  Elements, 

And  the  whole  circle  of  the  Heavens,  for  him 
A  sensitive  existence  and  a  God.” 

— Excursion,  Book  IV. 

In  “Childe  Harold”  Byron  speaks  thus  of  the  Persian 
worship : 

‘‘Not  vainly  did  the  early  Persian  make 
His  altar  the  high  places  and  the  peak 
Of  earth-o’er-gazing  mountains,  and  thus  take 
A  fit  and  unwalled  temple,  there  to  seek 
The  Spirit,  in  whose  honor  shrines  are  weak, 

Upreared  of  human  hands.  Come  and  compare 
Columns  and  idol-dwellings,  Goth  or  Greek, 

With  Nature’s  realms  of  worship,  earth  and  air, 

Nor  fix  on  fond  abodes  to  circumscribe  thy  prayer.” 

III.,  91. 

The  religion  of  Zoroaster  continued  to  flourish  even 
after  the  introduction  of  Christianity,  and  in  the  third 
century  was  the  dominant  faith  of  the  East,  till  the  rise 
of  the  Mahometan  power  and  the  conquest  of  Persia  by 


320  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


the  Arabs  in  the  seventh  century,  who  compelled  the 
greater  number  of  the  Persians  to  renounce  their  ancient 
faith.  Those  who  refused  to  abandon  the  religion  of 
their  ancestors  fled  to  the  deserts  of  Kerman  and  to 
Hindustan,  where  they  still  exist  under  the  name  of 
Parsees,  a  name  derived  from  Pars,  the  ancient  name  of 
Persia.  The  Arabs  call  them  Guebers,  from  an  Arabic 
word  signifying  unbelievers.  At  Bombay  the  Parsees 
are  at  this  day  a  very  active,  intelligent,  and  wealthy 
class.  For  purity  of  life,  honesty,  and  conciliatory  man¬ 
ners,  they  are  favorably  distinguished.  They  have 
numerous  temples  to  Fire,  which  they  adore  as  the  sym¬ 
bol  of  the  divinity. 

The  Persian  religion  makes  the  subject  of  the  finest 
tale  in  Moore’s  “Lalla  Rookh,”  the  “Fire  Worshippers.” 
The  Gueber  chief  says, 

“Yes!  I  am  of  that  impious  race, 

Those  slaves  of  Fire,  that  morn  and  even 
Hail  their  creator’s  dwelling-place 
Among  the  living  lights  of  heaven; 

Yes!  I  am  of  that  outcast  crew 
To  Iran  and  to  vengeance  true, 

Who  curse  the  hour  your  Arabs  came 
To  desecrate  our  shrines  of  flame, 

And  swear  before  God’s  burning  eye, 

To  break  our  country’s  chains  or  die.” 

HINDU  MYTHOLOGY 

The  religion  of  the  Hindus  is  professedly  founded  on 
the  Vedas.  To  these  books  of  their  scripture  they  at¬ 
tach  the  greatest  sanctity,  and  state  that  Brahma  him¬ 
self  composed  them  at  the  creation.  But  the  present 
arrangement  of  the  Vedas  is  attributed  to  the  sage 
Vyasa,  about  five  thousand  years  ago. 

The  Vedas  undoubtedly  teach  the  belief  of  one  su¬ 
preme  God.  The  name  of  this  deity  is  Brahma.  His 
attributes  are  represented  by  the  three  personified  powers 
of  creation,  preservation,  and  destruction,  which  under 
the  respective  names  of  Brahma,  Vishnu,  and  Siva  form 
the  Trimurti  or  triad  of  principal  Hindu  gods.  Of  the 
inferior  gods  the  most  important  are:  1.  Indra,  the  god 


VISHNU 


321 


&f  heaven,  of  thunder,  lightning,  storm,  and  rain;  2. 
Agni,  the  god  of  fire;  3.  Yama,  the  god  of  the  infernal 
regions;  4.  Surya,  the  god  of  the  sun. 

Brahma  is  the  creator  of  the  universe,  and  the  source 
from  which  all  the  individual  deities  have  sprung,  and 
into  which  all  will  ultimately  be  absorbed.  “As  milk 
changes  to  curd,  and  water  to  ice,  so  is  Brahma  vari¬ 
ously  transformed  and  diversified,  without  aid  of  exterior 
means  of  any  sort.”  The  human  soul,  according  to  the 
Vedas,  is  a  portion  of  the  supreme  ruler,  as  a  spark  is 
of  the  fire. 


VISHNU 

Vishnu  occupies  the  second  place  in  the  triad  of  the 
Hindus,  and  is  the  personification  of  the  preserving 
principle.  To  protect  the  world  in  various  epochs  of 
danger,  Vishnu  descended  to  the  earth  in  different  incar¬ 
nations,  or  bodily  forms,  which  descents  are  called  Ava¬ 
tars.  They  are  very  numerous,  but  ten  are  more  partic¬ 
ularly  specified.  The  first  Avatar  was  as  Matsya,  the 
Fish,  under  which  form  Vishnu  preserved  Manu,  the 
ancestor  of  the  human  race,  during  a  universal  deluge. 
The  second  Avatar  was  in  the  form  of  a  Tortoise,  which 
form  he  assumed  to  support  the  earth  when  the  gods 
were  churning  the  sea  for  the  beverage  of  immortality, 
Amrita. 

We  may  omit  the  other  Avatars,  which  were  of  the 
same  general  character,  that  is,  interpositions  to  protect 
the  right  or  to  punish  wrong-doers,  and  come  to  the 
ninth,  which  is  the  most  celebrated  of  the  Avatars  of 
Vishnu,  in  which  he  appeared  in  the  human  form  of 
Krishna,  an  invincible  warrior,  who  by  his  exploits  re¬ 
lieved  the  earth  from  the  tyrants  who  oppressed  it. 

Buddha  is  by  the  followers  of  the  Brahmanical  religion 
regarded  as  a  delusive  incarnation  of  Vishnu,  assumed 
by  him  in  order  to  induce  the  Asuras,  opponents  of  the 
gods,  to  abandon  the  sacred  ordinances  of  the  Vedas,  by 
which  means  they  lost  their  strength  and  supremacy. 

Kalki  is  the  name  of  the  tenth  Avatar,  in  which 
Vishnu  will  appear  at  the  end  of  the  present  age  of  the 


322  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


world  to  destroy  all  vice  and  wickedness,  and  to  restore 
mankind  to  virtue  and  purity. 

SIVA 

Siva  is  the  third  person  of  the  Hindu  triad.  He  is  the 
personification  of  the  destroying  principle.  Though  the 
third  name,  he  is,  in  respect  to  the  number  of  his  wor¬ 
shippers  and  the  extension  of  his  worship,  before  either 
of  the  others.  In  the  Puranas  (the  scriptures  of  the 
modern  Hindu  religion)  no  allusion  is  made  to  the  orig¬ 
inal  power  of  this  god  as  a  destroyer;  that  power  not 
being  to  be  called  into  exercise  till  after  the  expiration  of 
twelve  millions  of  years,  or  when  the  universe  will  come 
to  an  end;  and  Mahadeva  (another  name  for  Siva)  is 
rather  the  representative  of  regeneration  than  of  de¬ 
struction. 

The  worshippers  of  Vishnu  and  Siva  form  two  sects, 
each  of  which  proclaims  the  superiority  of  its  favorite 
deity,  denying  the  claims  of  the  other,  and  Brahma,  the 
creator,  having  finished  his  work,  seems  to  be  regarded 
as  no  longer  active,  and  has  now  only  one  temple  in 
India,  while  Mahadeva  and  Vishnu  have  many.  The 
worshippers  of  Vishnu  are  generally  distinguished  by  a 
greater  tenderness  for  life,  and  consequent  abstinence 
from  animal  food,  and  a  worship  less  cruel  than  that  of 
the  followers  of  Siva. 


JUGGERNAUT 

Whether  the  worshippers  of  Juggernaut  are  to  be 
reckoned  among  the  followers  of  Vishnu  or  Siva,  our 
authorities  differ.  The  temple  stands  near  the  shore, 
about  three  hundred  miles  south-west  of  Calcutta.  The 
idol  is  a  carved  block  of  wood,  with  a  hideous  face, 
painted  black,  and  a  distended  blood-red  mouth.  On 
festival  days  the  throne  of  the  image  is  placed  on  a 
tower  sixty  feet  high,  moving  on  wheels.  Six  long  ropes 
are  attached  to  the  tower,  by  which  the  people  draw  it 
along.  The  priests  and  their  attendants  stand  round  the 


CASTES 


323 


throne  on  the  tower,  and  occasionally  turn  to  the  wor¬ 
shippers  with  songs  and  gestures.  While  the  tower 
moves  along  numbers  of  the  devout  worshippers  throw 
themselves  on  the  ground,  in  order  to  be  crushed  by  the 
wheels,  and  the  multitude  shout  in  approbation  of  thej 
act,  as  a  pleasing  sacrifice  to  the  idol.  Every  year,  par¬ 
ticularly  at  two  great  festivals  in  March  and  July,  pil¬ 
grims  flock  in  crowds  to  the  temple.  Not  less  than  sev¬ 
enty  or  eighty  thousand  people  are  said  to  visit  the  place 
on  these  occasions,  when  all  castes  eat  together. 

CASTES 

The  division  of  the  Hindus  into  classes  or  castes, 
with  fixed  occupations,  existed  from  the  earliest  times. 
It  is  supposed  by  some  to  have  been  founded  upon  con¬ 
quest,  the  first  three  castes  being  composed  of  a  foreign 
race,  who  subdued  the  natives  of  the  country  and  re¬ 
duced  them  to  an  inferior  caste.  Others  trace  it  to  the 
fondness  of  perpetuating,  by  descent  from  father  to  son, 
certain  offices  or  occupations. 

The  Hindu  tradition  gives  the  following  account  of 
the  origin  of  the  various  castes :  At  the  creation  Brahma 
resolved  to  give  the  earth  inhabitants  who  should  be 
direct  emanations  from  his  own  body.  Accordingly 
from  his  mouth  came  forth  the  eldest  born,  Brahma  (the 
priest),  to  whom  he  confided  the  four  Vedas;  from 
his  right  arm  issued  Shatriya  (the  warrior),  and  from 
his  left,  the  warrior’s  wife.  His  thighs  produced 
Vaissyas,  male  and  female  (agriculturists  and  traders), 
and  lastly  from  his  feet  sprang  Sudras  (mechanics  and 
laborers). 

The  four  sons  of  Brahma,  so  significantly  brought 
into  the  world,  became  the  fathers  of  the  human  race, 
and  heads  of  their  respective  castes.  They  were  com¬ 
manded  to  regard  the  four  Vedas  as  containing  all  the 
rules  of  their  faith,  and  all  that  was  necessary  to  guide 
them  in  their  religious  ceremonies.  They  were  also 
commanded  to  take  rank  in  the  order  of  their  birth,  the 
Brahmans  uppermost,  as  having  sprung  from  the  head 
of  Brahma. 


324  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


A  strong  line  of  demarcation  is  drawn  between  the 
first  three  castes  and  the  Sudras.  The  former  are  al¬ 
lowed  to  receive  instruction  from  the  Vedas,  which  is 
not  permitted  to  the  Sudras.  The  Brahmans  possess 
the  privilege  of  teaching  the  Vedas,  and  were  in  former 
times  in  exclusive  possession  of  all  knowledge.  Though 
the  sovereign  of  the  country  was  chosen  from  the  Sha- 
triya  class,  also  called  Rajputs,  the  Brahmans  possessed 
the  real  power,  and  were  the  royal  counsellors,  the 
judges  and  magistrates  of  the  country;  their  persons 
and  property  were  inviolable;  and  though  they  commit¬ 
ted  the  greatest  crimes,  they  could  only  be  banished 
from  the  kingdom.  They  were  to  be  treated  by  sov¬ 
ereigns  with  the  greatest  respect,  for  “a  Brahman, 
whether  learned  or  ignorant,  is  a  powerful  divinity.” 

When  the  Brahman  arrives  at  years  of  maturity  it  be¬ 
comes  his  duty  to  marry.  He  ought  to  be  supported 
by  the  contributions  of  the  rich,  and  not  to  be  obliged  to 
gain  his  subsistence  by  any  laborious  or  productive  occu¬ 
pation.  But  as  all  the  Brahmans  could  not  be  main¬ 
tained  by  the  working  classes  of  the  community,  it  was 
found  necessary  to  allow  them  to  engage  in  productive 
employments. 

We  need  say  little  of  the  two  intermediate  classes, 
whose  rank  and  privileges  may  be  readily  inferred  from 
their  occupations.  The  Sudras  or  fourth  class  are 
bound  to  servile  attendance  on  the  higher  classes,  espe¬ 
cially  the  Brahmans,  but  they  may  follow  mechanical 
occupations  and  practical  arts,  as  painting  and  writing, 
or  become  traders  or  husbandmen.  Consequently  they 
sometimes  grow  rich,  and  it  will  also  sometimes  happen 
that  Brahmans  become  poor.  That  fact  works  its  usual 
consequence,  and  rich  Sudras  sometimes  employ  poor 
Brahmans  in  menial  occupations. 

There  is  another  class  lower  even  than  the  Sudras, 
for  it  is  not  one  of  the  original  pure  classes,  but  springs 
from  an  unauthorized  union  of  individuals  of  different 
castes.  These  are  the  Pariahs,  who  are  employed  in  the 
lowest  services  and  treated  with  the  utmost  severity. 
They  are  compelled  to  do  what  no  one  else  can  do  with¬ 
out  pollution.  They  are  not  only  considered  unclean 


BUDDHA 


325 


themselves,  but  they  render  unclean  everything  they 
touch.  They  are  deprived  of  all  civil  rights,  and  stig¬ 
matized  by  particular  laws  regulating  their  mode  of  life, 
their  houses,  and  their  furniture.  They  are  not  allowed 
to  visit  the  pagodas  or  temples  of  the  other  castes,  but 
have  their  own  pagodas  and  religious  exercises.  They 
are  not  suffered  to  enter  the  houses  of  the  other  castes; 
if  it  is  done  incautiously  or  from  necessity,  the  place 
must  be  purified  by  religious  ceremonies.  They  must 
not  appear  at  public  markets,  and  are  confined  to  the 
use  of  particular  wells,  which  they  are  obliged  to  sur¬ 
round  with  bones  of  animals,  to  warn  others  against 
using  them.  They  dwell  in  miserable  hovels,  distant 
from  cities  and  villages,  and  are  under  no  restrictions  in 
regard  to  food,  which  last  is  not  a  privilege,  but  a  mark 
of  ignominy,  as  if  they  were  so  degraded  that  nothing 
could  pollute  them.  The  three  higher  castes  are  prohib¬ 
ited  entirely  the  use  of  flesh.  The  fourth  is  allowed  to 
use  all  kinds  except  beef,  but  only  the  lowest  caste  is  al¬ 
lowed  every  kind  of  food  without  restriction. 

BUDDHA 

Buddha,  whom  the  Vedas  represent  as  a  delusive  in¬ 
carnation  of  Vishnu,  is  said  by  his  followers  to  have 
been  a  mortal  sage,  whose  name  was  Gautama,  called 
also  by  the  complimentary  epithets  of  Sakyasinha,  the 
Lion,  and  Buddha,  the  Sage. 

By  a  comparison  of  the  various  epochs  assigned  to 
his  birth,  it  is  inferred  that  he  lived  about  one  thousand 
years  before  Christ. 

He  was  the  son  of  a  king;  and  when  in  conformity 
to  the  usage  of  the  country  he  was,  a  few  days  after 
his  birth,  presented  before  the  altar  of  a  deity,  the  image 
is  said  to  have  inclined  its  head  as  a  presage  of  the 
future  greatness  of  the  new-born  prophet.  The  child 
soon  developed  faculties  of  the  first  order,  and  became 
equally  distinguished  by  the  uncommon  beauty  of  his 
person.  No  sooner  had  he  grown  to  years  of  maturity 
than  he  began  to  reflect  deeply  on  the  depravity  and 
misery  of  mankind,  and  he  conceived  the  idea  of  retiring 


326  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


from  society  and  devoting  himself  to  meditation.  His 
father  in  vain  opposed  this  design.  Buddha  escaped  the 
vigilance  of  his  guards,  and  having  found  a  secure  re¬ 
treat,  lived  for  six  years  undisturbed  in  his  devout  con¬ 
templations.  At  the  expiration  of  that  period  he  came 
forward  at  Benares  as  a  religious  teacher.  At  first  some 
who  heard  him  doubted  of  the  soundness  of  his  mind; 
but  his  doctrines  soon  gained  credit,  and  were  propa¬ 
gated  so  rapidly  that  Buddha  himself  lived  to  see  them 
spread  all  over  India.  He  died  at  the  age  of  eighty 
years. 

The  Buddhists  reject  entirely  the  authority  of  the 
Vedas,  and  the  religious  observances  prescribed  in  them 
and  kept  by  the  Hindus.  They  also  reject  the  distinc¬ 
tion  of  castes,  and  prohibit  all  bloody  sacrifices,  and  al¬ 
low  animal  food.  Their  priests  are  chosen  from  all 
classes;  they  are  expected  to  procure  their  maintenance 
by  perambulation  and  begging,  and  among  other  things 
it  is  their  duty  to  endeavor  to  turn  to  some  use  things 
thrown  aside  as  useless  by  others,  and  to  discover  the 
medicinal  power  of  plants.  But  in  Ceylon  three  orders 
of  priests  are  recognized;  those  of  the  highest  order  are 
usually  men  of  high  birth  and  learning,  and  are 
supported  at  the  principal  temples,  most  of  which  have 
been  richly  endowed  by  the  former  monarchs  of  the 
country. 

For  several  centuries  after  the  appearance  of  Buddha, 
his  sect  seems  to  have  been  tolerated  by  the  Brahmans, 
and  Buddhism  appears  to  have  penetrated  the  peninsula 
of  Hindustan  in  every  direction,  and  to  have  been  car¬ 
ried  to  Ceylon,  and  to  the  eastern  peninsula.  But  after¬ 
wards  it  had  to  endure  in  India  a  long-continued  persecu¬ 
tion,  which  ultimately  had  the  effect  of  entirely  abolish¬ 
ing  it  in  the  country  where  it  had  originated,  but  to 
scatter  it  widely  over  adjacent  countries.  Buddhism  ap¬ 
pears  to  have  been  introduced  into  China  about  the  year 
65  of  our  era.  From  China  it  was  subsequently  extended 
to  Corea,  Japan,  and  Java. 


PRESTER  JOHN 


327 


THE  GRAND  LAMA 

It  is  a  doctrine  alike  of  the  Brahminical  Hindus  and 
of  the  Buddhist  sect  that  the  confinement  of  the  human 
soul,  an  emanation  of  the  divine  spirit,  in  a  human 
body,  is  a  state  of  misery,  and  the  consequence  of 
frailties  and  sins  committed  during  former  existences. 
But  they  hold  that  some  few  individuals  have  appeared 
on  this  earth  from  time  to  time,  not  under  the  neces¬ 
sity  of  terrestrial  existence,  but  who  voluntarily  de¬ 
scended  to  the  earth  to  promote  the  welfare  of  man¬ 
kind.  These  individuals  have  gradually  assumed  the  char¬ 
acter  of  reappearances  of  Buddha  himself.,  in  which 
capacity  the  line  is  continued  till  the  present  day,  in  the 
several  Lamas  of  Thibet,  China,  and  other  countries 
where  Buddhism  prevails.  In  consequence  of  the  vic¬ 
tories  of  Gengis  Khan  and  his  successors,  the  Lama  re¬ 
siding  in  Thibet  was  raised  to  the  dignity  of  chief  pon¬ 
tiff  of  the  sect.  A  separate  province  was  assigned  to 
him  as  his  own  territory,  and  besides  his  spiritual  dig¬ 
nity  he  became  to  a  limited  extent  a  temporal  monarch. 
He  is  styled  the  Dalai  Lama. 

The  first  Christian  missionaries  who  proceeded  to 
Thibet  were  surprised  to  find  there  in  the  heart  of  Asia 
a  pontifical  court  and  several  other  ecclesiastical  institu¬ 
tions  resembling  those  of  the  Roman  Catholic  church. 
They  found  convents  for  priests  and  nuns;  also  pro¬ 
cessions  and  forms  of  religious  worship,  attended  with 
much  pomp  and  splendor;  and  many  were  induced  by 
these  similarities  to  consider  Lamaism  as  a  sort  of  de¬ 
generated  Christianity.  It  is  not  improbable  that  the 
Lamas  derived  some  of  these  practices  from  the  Nesto- 
rian  Christians,  who  were  settled  in  Tartary  when 
Buddhism  was  introduced  into  Thibet. 

PRESTER  JOHN 

An  early  account,  communicated  probably  by  trav¬ 
elling  merchants,  of  a  Lama  or  spiritual  chief  among 
the  Tartars,  seems  to  have  occasioned  in  Europe  the  re¬ 
port  of  a  Presbyter  or  Prester  John,  a  Christian  pontiff 


328  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


resident  in  Upper  Asia.  The  Pope  sent  a  mission  in 
search  of  him,  as  did  also  Louis  IX.  of  France,  some 
years  later,  but  both  missions  were  unsuccessful,  though 
the  small  communities  of  Nestorian  Christians,  which 
they  did  find,  served  to  keep  up  the  belief  in  Europe  that 
such  a  personage  did  exist  somewhere  in  the  East.  At 
last  in  the  fifteenth  century,  a  Portuguese  traveller, 
Pedro  Covilham,  happening  to  hear  that  there  was  a 
Christian  prince  in  the  country  of  the  Abessines  (Abys¬ 
sinia),  not  far  from  the  Red  Sea,  concluded  that  this 
must  be  the  true  Prester  John.  He  accordingly  went 
thither,  and  penetrated  to  the  court  of  the  king,  whom 
he  calls  Negus.  Milton  alludes  to  him  in  “Paradise 
Lost,”  Book  XI.,  where,  describing  Adam's  vision  of 
his  descendants  in  their  various  nations  and  cities,  scat¬ 
tered  over  the  face  of  the  earth,  he  says, — 

“.  .  .  Nor  did  his  eyes  not  ken 
Th’  empire  of  Negus,  to  his  utmost  port, 

Ercoco,  and  the  less  maritime  kings, 

Mombaza  and  Quiloa  and  Melind.” 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

NORTHERN  MYTHOLOGY — VALHALLA — THE  VALKYRIOR 

NORTHERN  MYTHOLOGY 

The  stories  which  have  engaged  our  attention  thus 
far  relate  to  the  mythology  of  southern  regions.  But 
there  is  another  branch  of  ancient  superstitions  which 
ought  not  to  be  entirely  overlooked,  especially  as  it  be¬ 
longs  to  the  nations  from  which  we,  through  our 
English  ancestors,  derive  our  origin.  It  is  that  of  the 
northern  nations,  called  Scandinavians,  who  inhabited 
the  countries  now  known  as  Sweden,  Denmark,  Norway, 
and  Iceland.  These  mythological  records  are  con- 


NORTHERN  MYTHOLOGY 


329 


tained  in  two  collections  called  the  Eddas,  of  which  the 
oldest  is  in  poetry  and  dates  back  to  the  year  1056,  the 
more  modern  or  prose  Edda  being  of  the  date  of  1640. 

According  to  the  Eddas  there  was  once  no  heaven 
above  nor  earth  beneath,  but  only  a  bottomless  deep, 
and  a  world  of  mist  in  which  flowed  a  fountain.  Twelve 
rivers  issued  from  this  fountain,  and  when  they  had 
flowed  far  from  their  source,  they  froze  into  ice,  and  one 
layer  accumulating  over  another,  the  great  deep  was  filled 
up. 

Southward  from  the  world  of  mist  was  the  world  of 
light.  From  this  flowed  a  warm  wind  upon  the  ice  and 
melted  it.  The  vapors  rose  in  the  air  and  formed  clouds, 
from  which  sprang  Ymir,  the  Frost  giant  and  his  pro¬ 
geny,  and  the  cow  Audhumbla,  whose  milk  afforded 
nourishment  and  food  to  the  giant.  The  cow  got  nour¬ 
ishment  by  licking  the  hoar  frost  and  salt  from  the 
ice.  While  she  was  one  day  licking  the  salt  stones 
there  appeared  at  first  the  hair  of  a  man,  on  the  second 
day  the  whole  head,  and  on  the  third  the  entire  form 
endowed  with  beauty,  agility,  and  power.  This  new  be¬ 
ing  was  a  god,  from  whom  and  his  wife,  a  daughter  of 
the  giant  race,  sprang  the  three  brothers  Odin,  Vili,  and 
Ve.  They  slew  the  giant  Ymir,  and  out  of  his  body 
formed  the  earth,  of  his  blood  the  seas,  of  his  bones  the 
mountains,  of  his  hair  the  trees,  of  his  skull  the  heavens, 
and  of  his  brain  clouds,  charged  with  hail  and  snow.  Of 
Ymir’s  eyebrows  the  gods  formed  Midgard  (mid  earth), 
destined  to  become  the  abode  of  man. 

Odin  then  regulated  the  periods  of  day  and  night  and 
the  seasons  by  placing  in  the  heavens  the  sun  and  moon, 
and  appointing  to  them  their  respective  courses.  As 
soon  as  the  sun  began  to  shed  its  rays  upon  the  earth, 
it  caused  the  vegetable  world  to  bud  and  sprout. 
Shortly  after  the  gods  had  created  the  world  they 
walked  by  the  side  of  the  sea,  pleased  with  their  new 
work,  but  found  that  it  was  still  incomplete,  for  it  was 
without  human  beings.  They  therefore  took  an  ash  tree 
and  made  a  man  out  of  it,  and  they  made  a  woman  out 
of  an  elder,  and  called  the  man  Aske  and  the  woman 
Embla.  Odin  then  gave  them  life  and  soul,  Vili  reason 


330  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


and  motion,  and  Ve  bestowed  upon  them  the  senses,  ex¬ 
pressive  features,  and  speech.  Midgard  was  then  given 
them  as  their  residence,  and  they  became  the  progenitors 
of  the  human  race. 

The  mighty  ash  tree  Ygdrasill  was  supposed  to  sup¬ 
port  the  whole  universe.  It  sprang  from  the  body  of 
Ymir,  and  had  three  immense  roots,  extending  one  into 
Asgard  (the  dwelling  of  the  gods),  the  other  into  Jotun- 
heim  (the  abode  of  the  giants),  and  the  third  to  Niffle- 
heim  (the  regions  of  darkness  and  cold).  By  the  side 
of  each  of  these  roots  is  a  spring,  from  which  it  is 
watered.  The  root  that  extends  into  Asgard  is  care¬ 
fully  tended  by  the  three  Norns,  goddesses,  who  are 
regarded  as  the  dispensers  of  fate.  They  are  Urdur 
(the  past),  Verdandi  (the  present),  Skuld  (the  future). 
The  spring  at  the  Jotunheim  side  is  Ymir’s  well,  in 
which  wisdom  and  wit  lie  hidden,  but  that  of  Niffleheim 
feeds  the  adder  Nidhogge  (darkness),  which  perpetu¬ 
ally  gnaws  at  the  root.  Four  harts  run  across  the 
branches  of  the  tree  and  bite  the  buds;  they  represent 
the  four  winds.  Under  the  tree  lies  Ymir,  and  when  he 
tries  to  shake  off  its  weight  the  earth  quakes. 

Asgard  is  the  name  of  the  abode  of  the  gods,  access 
to  which  is  only  gained  by  crossing  the  bridge  Bifrost 
(the  rainbow).  Asgard  consists  of  golden  and  silver 
palaces,  the  dwellings  of  the  gods,  but  the  most  beautiful 
of  these  is  Valhalla,  the  residence  of  Odin.  When 
seated  on  his  throne  he  overlooks  all  heaven  and  earth. 
Upon  his  shoulders  are  the  ravens  Hugin  and  Munin, 
who  fly  every  day  over  the  whole  world,  and  on  their 
return  report  to  him  all  they  have  seen  and  heard.  At 
his  feet  lie  his  two  wolves,  Geri  and  Freki,  to  whom 
Odin  gives  all  the  meat  that  is  set  before  him,  for  he 
himself  stands  in  no  need  of  food.  Mead  is  for  him 
both  food  and  drink.  He  invented  the  Runic  characters, 
and  it  is  the  business  of  the  Norns  to  engrave  the  runes 
of  fate  upon  a  metal  shield.  From  Odin’s  name,  spelt 
Woden,  as  it  sometimes  is,  came  Wednesday,  the  name 
of  the  fourth  day  of  the  week. 

Odin  is  frequently  called  Alfadur  (All-father),  but 
this  name  is  sometimes  used  in  a  way  that  shows  that 


OF  THOR  AND  THE  OTHER  GODS  331 


the  Scandinavians  had  an  idea  of  a  deity  superior  to 
Odin,  uncreated  and  eternal. 

OF  THE  JOYS  OF  VALHALLA 

Valhalla  is  the  great  hall  of  Odin,  wherein  he  feasts 
with  his  chosen  heroes,  all  those  who  have  fallen  bravely 
in  battle,  for  all  who  die  a  peaceful  death  are  excluded. 
The  flesh  of  the  boar  Schrimnir  is  served  up  to  them, 
and  is  abundant  for  all.  For  although  this  boar  is  cooked 
every  morning,  he  becomes  whole  again  every  night. 
For  drink  the  heroes  are  supplied  abundantly  with  mead 
from  the  she-goat  Heidrum.  When  the  heroes  are  not 
feasting  they  amuse  themselves  with  fighting.  Every 
day  they  ride  out  into  the  court  or  field  and  fight  until 
they  cut  each  other  in  pieces.  This  is  their  pastime; 
but  when  meal  time  comes  they  recover  from  their 
wounds  and  return  to  feast  in  Valhalla. 

THE  VALKYRIE 

The  Valkyrie  are  warlike  virgins,  mounted  upon 
horses  and  armed  with  helmets  and  spears.  Odin,  who 
is  desirous  to  collect  a  great  many  heroes  in  Valhalla 
to  be  able  to  meet  the  giants  in  a  day  when  the  fina 
contest  must  come,  sends  down  to  every  battle-field  <L 
make  choice  of  those  who  shall  be  slain.  The  Valky- 
rie  are  his  messengers,  and  their  name  means  “Choosers 
of  the  slain.”  When  they  ride  forth  on  their  errand, 
their  armor  sheds  a  strange  flickering  light,  which  flashes 
up  over  the  northern  skies,  making  what  men  call  the 
“Aurora  Borealis,”  or  “Northern  Lights.”1 

OF  THOR  AND  THE  OTHER  GODS 

Thor,  the  thunderer,  Odin’s  eldest  son,  is  the  strong¬ 
est  of  gods  and  men,  and  possesses  three  very  pre¬ 
cious  things.  The  first  is  a  hammer,  which  both  the 
Frost  and  the  Mountain  giants  know  to  their  cost,  when 
they  see  it  hurled  against  them  in  the  air,  for  it  has  split 
many  a  skull  of  their  fathers  and  kindred.  When 

1  Gray's  ode,  “The  Fatal  Sisters,”  is  founded  on  this  superstition. 


332  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


thrown,  it  returns  to  his  hand  of  its  own  accord.  The 
second  rare  thing  he  possesses  is  called  the  belt  of 
strength.  When  he  girds  it  about  him  his  divine  might 
is  doubled.  The  third,  also  very  precious,  is  his  iron 
gloves,  which  he  puts  on  whenever  he  would  use  his 
mallet  efficiently.  From  Thor’s  name  is  derived  our 
word  Thursday. 

Frey  is  one  of  the  most  celebrated  of  the  gods.  He 
presides  over  rain  and  sunshine  and  all  the  fruits  of  the 
earth.  His  sister  Freya  is  the  most  propitious  of  the 
goddesses.  She  loves  music,  spring,  and  flowers,  and  is 
particularly  fond  of  the  Elves  (fairies).  She  is  very 
fond  of  love  ditties,  and  all  lovers  would  do  well  to 
invoke  her. 

Bragi  is  the  god  of  poetry,  and  his  song  records  the 
deeds  of  warriors.  His  wife,  Iduna,  keeps  in  a  box 
the  apples  which  the  gods,  when  they  feel  old  age  ap¬ 
proaching,  have  only  to  taste  of  to  become  young  again. 

Heimdall  is  the  watchman  of  the  gods,  and  is  there¬ 
fore  placed  on  the  borders  of  heaven  to  prevent  the 
giants  from  forcing  their  way  over  the  bridge  Bi frost 
(the  rainbow).  He  requires  less  sleep  than  a  bird,  and 
sees  by  night  as  well  as  by  day  a  hundred  miles  around 
him.  So  acute  is  his  ear  that  no  sound  escapes  him,  for 
he  can  even  hear  the  grass  grow  and  the  wool  on  a 
sheep’s  back. 


OF  LOKI  AND  HIS  PROGENY 

There  is  another  deity  who  is  described  as  the  calum¬ 
niator  of  the  gods  and  the  contriver  of  all  fraud  and 
mischief.  His  name  is  Loki.  He  is  handsome  and  well 
made,  but  of  a  very  fickle  mood  and  most  evil  disposi¬ 
tion.  He  is  of  the  giant  race,  but  forced  himself  into 
the  company  of  the  gods,  and  seems  to  take  pleasure  in 
bringing  them  into  difficulties,  and  in  extricating  them 
out  of  the  danger  by  his  cunning,  wit,  and  skill.  Loki 
has  three  children.  The  first  is  the  wolf  Fenris,  the 
second  the  Midgard  serpent,  the  third  Hela  (Death). 
The  gods  were  not  ignorant  that  these  monsters  were 
growing  up,  and  that  they  would  one  day  bring  much 


HOW  THOR  PAID  THE  GIANT’S  WAGES  333 


evil  upon  gods  and  men.  So  Odin  deemed  it  advis¬ 
able  to  send  one  to  bring  them  to  him.  When  they  came 
he  threw  the  serpent  into  that  deep  ocean  by  which  the 
earth  is  surrounded.  But  the  monster  had  grown  to 
such  an  enormous  size  that  holding  his  tail  in  his  mouth 
he  encircles  the  whole  earth.  Hela  he  cast  into  Niffle- 
heim,  and  gave  her  power  over  nine  worlds  or  regions, 
into  which  she  distributes  those  who  are  sent  to  her; 
that  is,  all  who  die  of  sickness  or  old  age.  Her  hall  is 
called  Elvidner.  Hunger  is  her  table,  Starvation  her 
knife,  Delay  her  man,  Slowness  her  maid,  Precipice  her 
threshold,  Care  her  bed,  and  Burning  Anguish  forms  the 
hangings  of  the  apartments.  She  may  easily  be  recog¬ 
nized,  for  her  body  is  half  flesh  color  and  half  blue,  and 
she  has  a  dreadfully  stern  and  forbidding  countenance. 

The  wolf  Fenris  gave  the  gods  a  great  deal  of  trou¬ 
ble  before  they  succeeded  in  chaining  him.  He  broke 
the  strongest  fetters  as  if  they  were  made  of  cobwebs. 
Finally  the  gods  sent  a  messenger  to  the  mountain  spirits, 
who  made  for  them  the  chain  called  Gleipnir.  It  is 
fashioned  of  six  things,  viz.,  the  noise  made  by  the 
footfall  of  a  cat,  the  beards  of  women,  the  roots  of 
stones,  the  breath  of  fishes,  the  nerves  (sensibilities)  of 
bears,  and  the  spittle  of  birds.  When  finished  it  was 
as  smooth  and  soft  as  a  silken  string.  But  when  the 
gods  asked  the  wolf  to  suffer  himself  to  be  bound  with 
this  apparently  slight  ribbon,  he  suspected  their  design, 
fearing  that  it  was  made  by  enchantment.  He  there¬ 
fore  only  consented  to  be  bound  with  it  upon  condition 
that  one  of  the  gods  put  his  hand  in  his  (Fenris’s) 
mouth  as  a  pledge  that  the  band  was  to  be  removed 
again.  Tyr  (the  god  of  battles)  alone  had  courage 
enough  to  do  this.  But  when  the  wolf  found  that  he 
could  not  break  his  fetters,  and  that  the  gods  would  not 
release  him,  he  bit  off  Tyr’s  hand,  and  he  has  ever  since 
remained  one-handed. 

HOW  THOR  PAID  THE  MOUNTAIN  GIANT  HIS  WAGES 

Once  on  a  time,  when  the  gods  were  constructing 
their  abodes  and  had  already  finished  Midgard  and  Val- 


334  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


halla,  a  certain  artificer  came  and  offered  to  build  them 
a  residence  so  well  fortified  that  they  should  be  per¬ 
fectly  safe  from  the  incursions  of  the  Frost  giants  and 
the  giants  of  the  mountains.  But  he  demanded  for  his 
reward  the  goddess  Freya,  together  with  the  sun  and 
moon.  The  gods  yielded  to  his  terms,  provided  he 
would  finish  the  whole  work  himself  without  any  one’s 
assistance,  and  all  within  the  space  of  one  winter.  But 
if  anything  remained  unfinished  on  the  first  day  of  sum¬ 
mer  he  should  forfeit  the  recompense  agreed  on.  On 
being  told  these  terms  the  artificer  stipulated  that  he 
should  be  allowed  the  use  of  his  horse  Svadilfari,  and 
this  by  the  advice  of  Loki  was  granted  to  him.  He  ac¬ 
cordingly  set  to  work  on  the  first  day  of  winter,  and 
during  the  night  let  his  horse  draw  stone  for  the  build¬ 
ing.  The  enormous  size  of  the  stones  struck  the  gods 
with  astonishment,  and  they  saw  clearly  that  the  horse 
did  one-half  more  of  the  toilsome  work  than  his  master. 
Their  bargain,  however,  had  been  concluded,  and  con¬ 
firmed  by  solemn  oaths,  for  without  these  precautions 
a  giant  would  not  have  thought  himself  safe  among  the 
gods,  especially  when  Thor  should  return  from  an  ex¬ 
pedition  he  had  then  undertaken  against  the  evil  demons. 

As  the  winter  drew  to  a  close,  the  building  was  far 
advanced,  and  the  bulwarks  were  sufficiently  high  and 
massive  to  render  the  place  impregnable.  In  short,  when 
it  wanted  but  three  days  to  summer,  the  only  part  that 
remained  to  be  finished  was  the  gateway.  Then  sat  the 
gods  on  their  seats  of  justice  and  entered  into  consul¬ 
tation,  inquiring  of  one  another  who  among  them  could, 
have  advised  to  give  Freya  away,  or  to  plunge  the 
heavens  in  darkness  by  permitting  the  giant  to  carry 
away  the  sun  and  the  moon. 

They  all  agreed  that  no  one  but  Loki,  the  author  of 
so  many  evil  deeds,  could  have  given  such  bad  counsel, 
and  that  he  should  be  put  to  a  cruel  death  if  he  did  not 
contrive  some  way  to  prevent  the  artificer  from  com¬ 
pleting  his  task  and  obtaining  the  stipulated  recom¬ 
pense.  They  proceeded  to  lay  hands  on  Loki,  who  in 
his  fright  promised  upon  oath  that,  let  it  cost  him  what 
it  would,  he  would  so  manage  matters  that  the  man 


THE  RECOVERY  OF  THE  HAMMER  335 


should  lose  his  reward.  That  very  night  when  the  man 
went  with  Svadilfari  for  building  stone,  a  mare  suddenly 
ran  out  of  a  forest  and  began  to  neigh.  The  horse 
thereat  broke  loose  and  ran  after  the  mare  into  the 
forest,  which  obliged  the  man  also  to  run  after  his 
horse,  and  thus  between  one  and  another  the  whole  night 
was  lost,  so  that  at  dawn  the  work  had  not  made  the 
usual  progress.  The  man,  seeing  that  he  must  fail  of 
completing  his  task,  resumed  his  own  gigantic  stature, 
and  the  gods  now  clearly  perceived  that  it  was  in  reality 
a  mountain  giant  who  had  come  amongst  them.  Feeling 
no  longer  bound  by  their  oaths,  they  called  on  Thor, 
who  immediately  ran  to  their  assistance,  and  lifting  up 
his  mallet,  paid  the  workman  his  wages,  not  with  the 
sun  and  moon,  and  not  even  by  sending  him  back  to 
Jotunheim,  for  with  the  first  blow  he  shattered  the 
giant’s  skull  to  pieces  and  hurled  him  headlong  into 
Niffleheim. 


THE  RECOVERY  OF  THE  HAMMER 

Once  upon  a  time  it  happened  that  Thor’s  hammer 
fell  into  the  possession  of  the  giant  Thrym,  who  buried 
it  eight  fathoms  deep  under  the  rocks  of  Jotunheim. 
Thor  sent  Loki  to  negotiate  with  Thrym,  but  he  could 
only  prevail  so  far  as  to  get  the  giant’s  promise  to  re¬ 
store  the  weapon  if  Freya  would  consent  to  be  his  bride. 
Loki  returned  and  reported  the  result  of  his  mission, 
but  the  goddess  of  love  was  quite  horrified  at  the  idea 
of  bestowing  her  charms  on  the  king  of  the  Frost  giants. 
In  this  emergency  Loki  persuaded  Thor  to  dress  himself 
in  Freya’s  clothes  and  accompany  him  to  Jotunheim. 
Thrym  received  his  veiled  bride  with  due  courtesy,  but 
was  greatly  surprised  at  seeing  her  eat  for  her  supper 
eight  salmons  and  a  full  grown  ox,  besides  other  deli¬ 
cacies,  washing  the  whole  down  with  three  tuns  of 
mead.  Loki,  however,  assured  him  that  she  had  not 
tasted  anything  for  eight  long  nights,  so  great  was  her 
desire  to  see  her  lover,  the  renowned  ruler  of  Jotunheim. 
Thrym  had  at  length  the  curiosity  to  peep  under  his 
bride’s  veil,  but  started  back  in  affright  and  demanded 


336  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


why  Freya’s  eyeballs  glistened  with  fire.  Loki  repeated 
the  same  excuse  and  the  giant  was  satisfied.  He  or¬ 
dered  the  hammer  to  be  brought  in  and  laid  on  the 
maiden’s  lap.  Thereupon  Thor  threw  off  his  disguise, 
grasped  his  redoubted  weapon,  and  slaughtered  Thrym 
and  all  his  followers. 

Frey  also  possessed  a  wonderful  weapon,  a  sword 
which  would  of  itself  spread  a  field  with  carnage  when¬ 
ever  the  owner  desired  it.  Frey  parted  with  this  sword, 
but  was  less  fortunate  than  Thor  and  never  recovered 
it.  It  happened  in  this  way:  Frey  once  mounted  Odin’s 
throne,  from  whence  one  can  see  over  the  whole  uni¬ 
verse,  and  looking  round  saw  far  off  in  the  giant’s  king¬ 
dom  a  beautiful  maid,  at  the  sight  of  whom  he  was 
struck  with  sudden  sadness,  insomuch  that  from  that 
moment  he  could  neither  sleep,  nor  drink,  nor  speak. 
At  last  Skirnir,  his  messenger,  drew  his  secret  from  him, 
and  undertook  to  get  him  the  maiden  for  his  bride,  if 
he  would  give  him  his  sword  as  a  reward.  Frey  con¬ 
sented  and  gave  him  the  sword,  and  Skirnir  set  off  on 
his  journey  and  obtained  the  maiden’s  promise  that  with¬ 
in  nine  nights  she  would  come  to  a  certain  place  and 
there  wed  Frey.  Skirnir  having  reported  the  success 
of  his  errand,  Frey  exclaimed: 

“Long  is  one  night, 

Long  are  two  nights, 

But  how  shall  I  hold  out  three? 

Shorter  hath  seemed 

A  month  to  me  oft 

Than  of  this  longing  time  the  half.” 

So  Frey  obtained  Gerda,  the  most  beautiful  of  all 
women,  for  his  wife,  but  he  lost  his  sword. 

This  story,  entitled  “Skirnir  For,”  and  the  one  im¬ 
mediately  preceding  it,  “Thrym’s  Quida,”  will  be  found 
poetically  told  in  Longfellow’s  “Poets  and  Poetry  of 
Europe.” 


THOR’S  VISIT  TO  JOTUNHEIM  •  337 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

THOR’S  VISIT  TO  JOTUNHEIM 
THOR’S  VISIT  TO  JOTUNHEIM,  THE  GIANT’S  COUNTRY 

One  day  the  god  Thor,  with  his  servant  Thialfi,  and 
accompanied  by  Loki,  set  out  on  a  journey  to  the  giant’s 
country.  Thialfi  was  of  all  men  the  swiftest  of  foot. 
He  bore  Thor’s  wallet,  containing  their  provisions. 
When  night  came  on  they  found  themselves  in  an  im¬ 
mense  forest,  and  searched  on  all  sides  for  a  place  where 
they  might  pass  the  night,  and  at  last  came  to  a  very 
large  hall,  with  an  entrance  that  took  the  whole  breadth 
of  one  end  of  the  building.  Here  they  lay  down  to 
sleep,  but  towards  midnight  were  alarmed  by  an  earth¬ 
quake  which  shook  the  whole  edifice.  Thor,  rising  up, 
called  on  his  companions  to  seek  with  him  a  place  of 
safety.  On  the  right  they  found  an  adjoining  chamber, 
into  which  the  others  entered,  but  Thor  remained  at 
the  doorway  with  his  mallet  in  his  hand,  prepared  to 
defend  himself,  whatever  might  happen.  A  terrible 
groaning  was  heard  during  the  night,  and  at  dawn  of 
day  Thor  went  out  and  found  lying  near  him  a  huge 
giant,  who  slept  and  snored  in  the  way  that  had  alarmed 
them  so.  It  is  said  that  for  once  Thor  was  afraid  to 
use  his  mallet,  and  as  the  giant  soon  waked  up,  Thor 
contented  himself  with  simply  asking  his  name. 

“My  name  is  Skrymir,”  said  the  giant,  “but  I  need 
not  ask  thy  name,  for  I  know  that  thou  art  the  god 
Thor.  But  what  has  become  of  my  glove?”  Thor  then 
perceived  that  what  they  had  taken  overnight  for  a 
hall  was  the  giant’s  glove,  and  the  chamber  where  his 
two  companions  had  sought  refuge  was  the  thumb. 
Skrymir  then  proposed  that  they  should  travel  in  com¬ 
pany,  and  Thor  consenting,  they  sat  down  to  eat  their 
breakfast,  and  when  they  had  done,  Skrymir  packed  all 
the  provisions  into  one  wallet,  threw  it  over  his  shoulder, 
and  strode  on  before  them,  taking  such  tremendous 


338  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


strides  that  they  were  hard  put  to  it  to  keep  up  with 
him.  So  they  travelled  the  whole  day,  and  at  dusk 
Skrymir  chose  a  place  for  them  to  pass  the  night  in 
under  a  large  oak  tree.  Skrymir  then  told  them  he 
would  lie  down  to  sleep.  “But  take  ye  the  wallet/’  he 
added,  “and  prepare  your  supper.” 

Skrymir  soon  fell  asleep  and  began  to  snore  strongly; 
but  when  Thor  tried  to  open  the  wallet,  he  found  the 
giant  had  tied  it  up  so  tight  he  could  not  untie  a  single 
knot.  At  last  Thor  became  wroth,  and  grasping  his 
mallet  with  both  hands  he  struck  a  furious  blow  on  the 
giant’s  head.  Skrymir,  awakening,  merely  asked  whether 
a  leaf  had  not  fallen  on  his  head,  and  whether  they 
had  supped  and  were  ready  to  go  to  sleep.  Thor  an¬ 
swered  that  they  were  just  going  to  sleep,  and  so  saying 
went  and  laid  himself  down  under  another  tree.  But 
sleep  came  not  that  night  to  Thor,  and  when  Skrymir 
snored  again  so  loud  that  the  forest  reechoed  with  the 
noise,  he  arose,  and  grasping  his  mallet  launched  it 
with  such  force  at  the  giant’s  skull  that  it  made  a  deep 
dint  in  it.  Skrymir,  awakening,  cried  out,  “What’s  the 
matter?  Are  there  any  birds  perched  on  this  tree?  I 
felt  some  moss  from  the  branches  fall  on  my  head. 
How  fares  it  with  thee,  Thor?”  But  Thor  went  away 
hastily,  saying  that  he  had  just  then  awoke,  and  that  as 
it  was  only  midnight,  there  was  still  time  for  sleep. 
He,  however,  resolved  that  if  he  had  an  opportunity  of 
striking  a  third  blow,  it  should  settle  all  matters  between 
them.  A  little  before  daybreak  he  perceived  that  Skry¬ 
mir  was  again  fast  asleep,  and  again  grasping  his  mal¬ 
let,  he  dashed  it  with  such  violence  that  it  forced  its 
way  into  the  giant’s  skull  up  to  the  handle.  But  Skrymir 
sat  up,  and  stroking  his  cheek  said,  “An  acorn  fell  on 
my  head.  What!  Art  thou  awake,  Thor?  Methinks 
it  is  time  for  us  to  get  up  and  dress  ourselves;  but  you 
have  not  now  a  long  way  before  you  to  the  city  called 
Utgard.  I  have  heard  you  whispering  to  one  another 
that  I  am  not  a  man  of  small  dimensions;  but  if  you 
come  to  Utgard  you  will  see  there  many  men  much 
taller  than  I.  Wherefore,  I  advise  you,  when  you  come 
there,  not  to  make  too  much  of  yourselves,  for  the 


THOR’S  VISIT  TO  JOTUNHEIM 


339 


followers  of  Utgard-Loki  will  not  brook  the  boasting 
of  such  little  fellows  as  you  are.  You  must  take  the 
road  that  leads  eastward,  mine  lies  northward,  so  we 
must  part  here.” 

Hereupon  he  threw  his  wallet  over  his  shoulders  and 
turned  away  from  them  into  the  forest,  and  Thor  had 
no  wish  to  stop  him  or  to  ask  for  any  more  of  his 
company. 

Thor  and  his  companions  proceeded  on  their  way,  and 
towards  noon  descried  a  city  standing  in  the  middle  of 
a  plain.  It  was  so  lofty  that  they  were  obliged  to  bend 
their  necks  quite  back  on  their  shoulders  in  order  to 
see  to  the  top  of  it.  On  arriving  they  entered  the  city, 
and  seeing  a  large  palace  before  them  with  the  door 
wide  open,  they  went  in,  and  found  a  number  of  men 
of  prodigious  stature,  sitting  on  benches  in  the  hall. 
Going  further,  they  came  before  the  king,  Utgard-Loki, 
whom  they  saluted  with  great  respect.  The  king,  re¬ 
garding  them  with  a  scornful  smile,  said,  “If  I  do  not 
mistake  me,  that  stripling  yonder  must  be  the  god  Thor.” 
Then  addressing  himself  to  Thor,  he  said,  “Perhaps 
thou  mayst  be  more  than  thou  appearest  to  be.  What 
are  the  feats  that  thou  and  thy  fellows  deem  yourselves 
skilled  in,  for  no  one  is  permitted  to  remain  here  who 
does  not,  in  some  feat  or  other,  excel  all  other  men?” 

“The  feat  that  I  know,”  said  Lol^i,  “is  to  eat  quicker 
than  any  one  else,  and  in  this  I  am  ready  to  give  a 
proof  against  any  one  here  who  may  choose  to  com¬ 
pete  with  me.” 

“That  will  indeed  be  a  feat,”  said  Utgard-Loki,  “if 
thou  performest  what  thou  promisest,  and  it  shall  be 
tried  forthwith.” 

He  then  ordered  one  of  his  men  who  was  sitting  at 
the  farther  end  of  the  bench,  and  whose  name  was 
Logi,  to  come  forward  and  try  his  skill  with  Loki.  A 
trough  filled  with  meat  having  been  set  on  the  hall 
floor,  Loki  placed  himself  at  one  end,  and  Logi  at  the 
other,  and  each  of  them  began  to  eat  as  fast  as  he  could, 
until  they  met  in  the  middle  of  the  trough.  But  it  was 
found  that  Loki  had  only  eaten  the  flesh,  while  his 
adversary  had  devoured  both  flesh  and  bone,  and  the 


340  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


trough  to  boot.  All  the  company  therefore  adjudged 
that  Loki  was  vanquished. 

Utgard-Loki  then  asked  what  feat  the  young  man 
who  accompanied  Thor  could  perform.  Thialfi  answered 
that  he  would  run  a  race  with  any  one  who  might  be 
matched  against  him.  The  king  observed  that  skill 
in  running  was  something  to  boast  of,  but  if  the  youth 
would  win  the  match  he  must  display  great  agility.  He 
then  arose  and  went  with  all  who  were  present  to  a 
plain  where  there  was  good  ground  for  running  on,  and 
calling  a  young  man  named  Hugi,  bade  him  run  a  match 
with  Thialfi.  In  the  first  course  Hugi  so  much  out¬ 
stripped  his  competitor  that  he  turned  back  and  met 
him  not  far  from  the  starting  place.  Then  they  ran  a 
second  and  a  third  time,  but  Thialfi  met  with  no  better 
success. 

Utgard-Loki  then  asked  Thor  in  what  feats  he  would 
choose  to  give  proofs  of  that  prowess  for  which  he 
was  so  famous.  Thor  answered  that  he  would  try  a 
drinking-match  with  any  one.  Utgard-Loki  bade  his 
cup-bearer  bring  the  large  horn  which  his  followers 
were  obliged  to  empty  when  they  had  trespassed  in  any 
way  against  the  law  of  the  feast.  The  cupbearer  having 
presented  it  to  Thor,  Utgard-Loki  said,  “Whoever  is 
a  good  drinker  will  empty  that  horn  at  a  single  draught, 
though  most  men  make  two  of  it,  but  the  most  puny 
drinker  can  do  it  in  three.” 

Thor  looked  at  the  horn,  which  seemed  of  no  ex¬ 
traordinary  size  though  somewhat  long;  however,  as 
he  was  very  thirsty,  he  set  it  to  his  lips,  and  without 
drawing  breath,  pulled  as  long  and  as  deeply  as  he  could, 
that  he  might  not  be  obliged  to  make  a  second  draught 
of  it;  but  when  he  set  the  horn  down  and  looked  in, 
he  could  scarcely  perceive  that  the  liquor  was  diminished. 

After  taking  breath,  Thor  went  to  it  again  with  all 
his  might,  but  when  he  took  the  horn  from  his  mouth, 
it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  drunk  rather  less  than 
before,  although  the  horn  could  now  be  carried  without 
spilling. 

“How  now,  Thor?”  said  Utgard-Loki;  “thou  must 
not  spare  thvself ;  if  thou  meanest  to  drain  the  horn 


THOR’S  VISIT  TO  JOTUNHEIM 


341 


at  the  third  draught  thou  must  pull  deeply;  and  I  must 
needs  say  that  thou  wilt  not  be  called  so  mighty  a  man 
here  as  thou  art  at  home  if  thou  showest  no  greater 
prowess  in  other  feats  than  methinks  will  be  shown  in 
this.” 

Thor,  full  of  wrath,  again  set  the  horn  to  his  lips, 
and  did  his  best  to  empty  it;  but  on  looking  in  found 
the  liquor  was  only  a  little  lower,  so  he  resolved  to  make 
no  further  attempt,  but  gave  back  the  horn  to  the  cup¬ 
bearer. 

“I  now  see  plainly,”  said  Utgard-Loki,  “that  thou  art 
not  quite  so  stout  as  we  thought  thee :  but  wilt  thou 
try  any  other  feat,  though  methinks  thou  art  not  likely 
to  bear  any  prize  away  with  thee  hence.” 

“What  new  trial  hast  thou  to  propose?”  said  Thor. 

“We  have  a  very  trifling  game  here,”  answered  Ut¬ 
gard-Loki,  “in  which  we  exercise  none  but  children. 
It  consists  in  merely  lifting  my  cat  from  the  ground; 
nor  should  I  have  dared  to  mention  such  a  feat  to  the 
great  Thor  if  I  had  not  already  observed  that  thou  art 
by  no  means  what  we  took  thee  for.” 

As  he  finished  speaking,  a  large  gray  cat  sprang  on 
the  hall  floor.  Thor  put  his  hand  under  the  cat’s  belly 
and  did  his  utmost  to  raise  him  from  the  floor,  but  the 
cat,  bending  his  back,  had,  notwithstanding  all  Thor’s 
efforts,  only  one  of  his  feet  lifted  up,  seeing  which 
Thor  made  no  further  attempt. 

“This  trial  has  turned  out,”  said  Utgard-Loki,  “just 
as  I  imagined  it  would.  The  cat  is  large,  but  Thor 
is  little  in  comparison  to  our  men.” 

“Little  as  ye  call  me,”  answered  Thor,  “let  me  see 
who  among  you  will  come  hither  now  I  am  in  wrath 
and  wrestle  with  me.” 

“I  see  no  one  here,”  said  Utgard-Loki,  looking  at  the 
men  sitting  on  the  benches,  “who  would  not  think  it 
beneath  him  to  wrestle  with  thee;  let  somebody,  how¬ 
ever,  call  hither  that  old  crone,  my  nurse  Elli,  and  let 
Thor  wrestle  with  her  if  he  will.  She  has  thrown  to 
the  ground  many  a  man  not  less  strong  than  this  Thor 

is” 

A  toothless  old  woman  then  entered  the  hall,  and 


342  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


was  told  by  Utgard-Loki  to  take  hold  of  Thor.  The 
tale  is  shortly  told.  The  more  Thor  tightened  his  hold 
on  the  crone  the  firmer  she  stood.  At  length  after  a 
very  violent  struggle  Thor  began  to  lose  his  footing, 
and  was  finally  brought  down  upon  one  knee.  Utgard- 
Loki  then  told  them  to  desist,  adding  that  Thor  had 
now  no  occasion  to  ask  any  one  else  in  the  hall  to 
wrestle  with  him,  and  it  was  also  getting  late;  so  he 
showed  Thor  and  his  companions  to  their  seats,  and  they 
passed  the  night  there  in  good  cheer. 

The  next  morning,  at  break  of  day,  Thor  and  his 
companions  dressed  themselves  and  prepared  for  their 
departure.  Utgard-Loki  ordered  a  table  to  be  set  for 
them,  on  which  there  was  no  lack  of  victuals  or  drink. 
After  the  repast  Utgard-Loki  led  them  to  the  gate  of 
the  city,  and  on  parting  asked  Thor  how  he  thought  his 
journey  had  turned  out,  and  whether  he  had  met  with 
any  men  stronger  than  himself.  Thor  told  him  that  he 
could  not  deny  but  that  he  had  brought  great  shame  on 
himself.  “And  what  grieves  me  most,”  he  added,  “is 
that  ye  will  call  me  a  person  of  little  worth.” 

“Nay,”  said  Utgard-Loki,  “it  behooves  me  to  tell  thee 
the  truth,  now  thou  art  out  of  the  city,  which  so  long 
as  I  live  and  have  my  way  thou  shalt  never  enter  again. 
And,  by  my  troth,  had  I  known  beforehand  that  thou 
hadst  so  much  strength  in  thee,  and  wouldst  have 
brought  me  so  near  to  a  great  mishap,  I  would  not  have 
suffered  thee  to  enter  this  time.  Know  then  that  I  have 
all  along  deceived  thee  by  my  illusions;  first  in  the 
forest,  where  I  tied  up  the  wallet  with  iron  wire  so 
that  thou  couldst  not  untie  it.  After  this  thou  gavest 
me  three  blows  with  thy  mallet;  the  first,  though  the 
least,  would  have  ended  my  days  had  it  fallen  on  me, 
but  I  slipped  aside  and  thy  blows  fell  on  the  mountain, 
where  thou  wilt  find  three  glens,  one  of  them  remark¬ 
ably  deep.  These  are  the  dints  made  by  thy  mallet.  I 
have  made  use  of  similar  illusions  in  the  contests  you 
have  had  with  my  followers.  In  the  first,  Loki,  like 
hunger  itself,  devoured  all  that  was  set  before  him, 
but  Logi  was  in  reality  nothing  else  than  Fire,  and 
therefore  consumed  not  only  the  meat,  but  the  trough 


THE  DEATH  OF  BALDUR 


343 


which  held  it.  Hugi,  with  whom  Thialfi  contended  in 
running,  was  Thought,  and  it  was  impossible  for  Thialfi 
to  keep  pace  with  that.  When  thou  in  thy  turn  didst 
attempt  to  empty  the  horn,  thou  didst  perform,  by  my 
troth,  a  deed  so  marvellous  that  had  I  not  seen  it  my¬ 
self  I  should  never  have  believed  it.  For  one  end  of  that 
horn  reached  the  sea,  which  thou  wast  not  aware  of,  but 
when  thou  comest  to  the  shore  thou  wilt  perceive  how 
much  the  sea  has  sunk  by  thy  draughts.  Thou  didst 
perform  a  feat  no  less  wonderful  by  lifting  up  the  cat, 
and  to  tell  thee  the  truth,  when  we  saw  that  one  of 
his  paws  was  off  the  floor,  we  were  all  of  us  terror- 
stricken,  for  what  thou  tookest  for  a  cat  was  in  reality 
the  Midgard  serpent  that  encompasseth  the  earth,  and 
he  was  so  stretched  by  thee  that  he  was  barely  long 
enough  to  enclose  it  between  his  head  and  tail.  Thy 
wrestling  with  Elli  was  also  a  most  astonishing  feat, 
for  there  was  never  yet  a  man,  nor  ever  will  be,  whom 
Old  Age,  for  such  in  fact  was  Elli,  will  not  sooner  or 
later  lay  low.  But  now,  as  we  are  going  to  part,  let 
me  tell  thee  that  it  will  be  better  for  both  of  us  if  thou 
never  come  near  me  again,  for  shouldst  thou  do  so,  I 
shall  again  defend  myself  by  other  illusions,  so  that 
thou  wilt  only  lose  thy  labor  and  get  no  fame  from 
the  contest  with  me.” 

On  hearing  these  words  Thor  in  a  rage  laid  hold  of 
his  mallet  and  would  have  launched  it  at  him,  but 
Utgard-Loki  had  disappeared,  and  when  Thor  would 
have  returned  to  the  city  to  destroy  it,  he  found  noth¬ 
ing  around  him  but  a  verdant  plain. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  DEATH  OF  BALDUR - THE  ELVES - RUNIC  LETTERS  — 

ICELAND - TEUTONIC  MYTHOLOGY - NIBELUNGEN  LIED 

THE  DEATH  OF  BALDUR 

Baldur  the  Good,  having  been  tormented  with  ter¬ 
rible  dreams  indicating  that  his  life  was  in  peril,  told 


344  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


them  to  the  assembled  gods,  who  resolved  to  conjure  all 
things  to  avert  from  him  the  threatened  danger.  Then 
Frigga,  the  wife  of  Odin,  exacted  an  oath  from  fire 
and  water,  from  iron  and  all  other  metals,  from  stones, 
trees,  diseases,  beasts,  birds,  poisons,  and  creeping  things, 
that  none  of  them  would  do  any  harm  to  Baldur.  Odin, 
not  satisfied  with  all  this,  and  feeling  alarmed  for  the 
fate  of  his  son,  determined  to  consult  the  prophetess 
Angerbode,  a  giantess,  mother  of  Fenris,  Hela,  and  the 
Midgard  serpent.  She  was  dead,  and  Odin  was  forced 
to  seek  her  in  Hela’s  dominions.  This  Descent  of  Odin 
forms  the  subject  of  Gray’s  fine  ode  beginning, — 

“Uprose  the  king-  of  men  with  speed 
And  saddled  straight  his  coal-black  steed  ” 

But  the  other  gods,  feeling  that  what  Frigga  had 
done  was  quite  sufficient,  amused  themselves  with  using 
Baldur  as  a  mark,  some  hurling  darts  at  him,  some 
stones,  while  others  hewed  at  him  with  their  swords 
and  battle-axes ;  for  do  what  they  would,  none  of  them 
could  harm  him.  And  this  became  a  favorite  pastime 
with  them  and  was  regarded  as  an  honor  shown  to 
Baldur.  But  when  Loki  beheld  the  scene  he  was  sorely 
vexed  that  Baldur  was  not  hurt.  Assuming,  therefore, 
the  shape  of  a  woman,  he  went  to  Fensalir,  the  man¬ 
sion  of  Frigga.  That  goddess,  when  she  saw  the  pre¬ 
tended  woman,  inquired  of  her  if  she  knew  what  the 
gods  were  doing  at  their  meetings.  She  replied  that 
they  were  throwing  darts  and  stones  at  Baldur,  with¬ 
out  being  able  to  hurt  him.  “Ay,”  said  Frigga,  “neither 
stones,  nor  sticks,  nor  anything  else  can  hurt  Baldur, 
for  I  have  exacted  an  oath  from  all  of  them.”  “What,” 
exclaimed  the  woman,  “have  all  things  sworn  to  spare 
Baldur?”  “All  things,”  replied  Frigga,  “except  one  lit¬ 
tle  shrub  that  grows  on  the  eastern  side  of  Valhalla, 
and  is  called  Mistletoe,  and  which  I  thought  too  young 
and  feeble  to  crave  an  oath  from.” 

As  soon  as  Loki  heard  this  he  went  away,  and  re¬ 
suming  his  natural  shape,  cut  off  the  mistletoe,  and  re¬ 
paired  to  the  place  where  the  gods  were  assembled. 
There  he  found  Hodur  standing  apart,  without  partak- 


THE  DEATH  OF  BALDUR 


345 


ing  of  the  sports,  on  account  of  his  blindness,  and  going 
up  to  him,  said,  “Why  dost  thou  not  also  throw  some¬ 
thing  at  Baldur?” 

“Because  I  am  blind,”  answered  Hodur,  “and  see 
not  where  Baldur  is,  and  have,  moreover,  nothing  to 
throw.” 

“Come,  then,”  said  Loki,  “do  like  the  rest,  and  show 
honor  to  Baldur  by  throwing  this  twig  at  him,  and  I 
will  direct  thy  arm  towards  the  place  where  he  stands.” 

Hodur  then  took  the  mistletoe,  and  under  the  guid¬ 
ance  of  Loki,  darted  it  at  Baldur,  who,  pierced  through 
and  through,  fell  down  lifeless.  Surely  never  was  there 
witnessed,  either  among  gods  or  men,  a  more  atrocious 
deed  than  this.  When  Baldur  fell,  the  gods  were  struck 
speechless  with  horror,  and  then  they  looked  at  each 
other,  and  all  were  of  one  mind  to  lay  hands  on  him 
who  had  done  the  deed,  but  they  were  obliged  to  delay 
their  vengeance  out  of  respect  for  the  sacred  place  where 
they  were  assembled.  They  gave  vent  to  their  grief  by 
loud  lamentations.  When  the  gods  came  to  themselves, 
Frigga  asked  who  among  them  wished  to  gain  all  her 
love  and  good  will.  “For  this,”  said  she,  “sha^  he  have 
who  will  ride  to  Hel  and  offer  Hela  a  ransom  if  she 
will  let  Baldur  return  to  Asgard.”  Whereupon  Hermod, 
surnamed  the  Nimble,  the  son  of  Odin,  offered  to  un¬ 
dertake  the  journey.  Odin’s  horse,  Sleipnir,  which  has 
eight  legs  and  can  outrun  the  wind,  was  then  led  forth, 
on  which  Hermod  mounted  and  galloped  away  on  his 
mission.  For  the  space  of  nine  days  and  as  many  nights 
he  rode  through  deep  glens  so  dark  that  he  could  not 
discern  anything,  until  he  arrived  at  the  river  Gyoll, 
which  he  passed  over  on  a  bridge  covered  with  glit¬ 
tering  gold.  The  maiden  who  kept  the  bridge  asked  him 
his  name  and  lineage,  telling  him  that  the  day  before 
five  bands  of  dead  persons  had  ridden  over  the  bridge, 
and  did  not  shake  it  as  much  as  he  alone.  “But,”  she 
added,  “thou  hast  not  death’s  hue  on  thee;  why  then 
ridest  thou  here  on  the  way  to  Hel?” 

“I  ride  to  Hel,”  answered  Hermod,  “to  seek  Baldur, 
Hast  thou  perchance  seen  him  pass  this  way?” 

She  replied,  “Baldur  hath  ridden  over  Gyoll’s  bridge, 


346  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


and  yonder  lieth  the  way  he  took  to  the  abodes  of 
death.” 

Hermod  pursued  his  journey  until  he  came  to  the 
barred  gates  of  Hel.  Here  he  alighted,  girthed  his  sad¬ 
dle  tighter,  and  remounting  clapped  both  spurs  to  his 
horse,  who  cleared  the  gate  by  a  tremendous  leap  with¬ 
out  touching  it.  Hermod  then  rode  on  to  the  palace, 
where  he  found  his  brother  Baldur  occupying  the  most 
distinguished  seat  in  the  hall,  and  passed  the  night  in 
his  company.  The  next  morning  he  besought  Hela  to  let 
Baldur  ride  home  with  him,  assuring  her  that  nothing 
but  lamentations  were  to  be  heard  among  the  gods. 
Hela  answered  that  it  should  now  be  tried  whether 
Baldur  was  so  beloved  as  he  was  said  to  be.  “If, 
therefore,’’  she  added,  “all  things  in  the  world,  both  liv¬ 
ing  and  lifeless,  weep  for  him,  then  shall  he  return  to 
life;  but  if  any  one  thing  speak  against  him  or  refuse 
to  weep,  he  shall  be  kept  in  Hel.” 

Hermod  then  rode  back  to  Asgard  and  gave  an  ac¬ 
count  of  all  he  had  heard  and  witnessed. 

The  gods  upon  this  despatched  messengers  through¬ 
out  the  world  to  beg  everything  to  weep  in  order  that 
Baldur  might  be  delivered  from  Hel.  All  things  very 
willingly  complied  with  this  request,  both  men  and  every 
other  living  being,  as  well  as  earths,  and  stones,  and 
trees,  and  metals,  just  as  we  have  all  seen  these  things 
weep  when  they  are  brought  from  a  cold  place  into  a 
hot  one.  As  the  messengers  were  returning,  they  found 
an  old  hag  named  Thaukt  sitting  in  a  cavern,  and  begged 
her  to  weep  Baldur  out  of  Hel.  But  she  answered, 

“Thaukt  will  wail 
With  dry  tears 
Baldur’s  bale-fire. 

Let  Hela  keep  her  own.” 

It  was  strongly  suspected  that  this  hag  was  no  other 
t!ian  Loki  himself,  who  never  ceased  to  work  evil  among 
gods  and  men.  So  Baldur  was  prevented  from  coming 
back  to  Asgard.3 

1  In  Longfellow’s  Poems  will  be  found  a  poem  entitled  “Tegner’s  Drapa,” 
upon  the  subject  of  Baldur’s  death. 


THE  FUNERAL  OF  BALDUR 


347 


THE  FUNERAL  OF  BALDUR 

The  gods  took  up  the  dead  body  and  bore  it  to  the 
seashore  where  stood  Baldur’s  ship  “Hringham,”  which 
passed  for  the  largest  in  the  world.  Baldur’s  dead  body 
was  put  on  the  funeral  pile,  on  board  the  ship,  and  his 
wife  Nanna  was  so  struck  with  grief  at  the  sight  that 
she  broke  her  heart,  and  her  body  was  burned  on  the 
same  pile  as  her  husband’s.  There  was  a  vast  concourse 
of  various  kinds  of  people  at  Baldur’s  obsequies.  First 
came  Odin  accompanied  by  Frigga,  the  Valkyrie,  and 
his  ravens;  then  Frey  in  his  car  drawn  by  Gullinbursti, 
the  boar;  Heimdall  rode  his  horse  Gulltopp,  and  Freya 
drove  in  her  chariot  drawn  by  cats.  There  were  also  a 
great  many  Frost  giants  and  giants  of  the  mountain 
present.  Baldur’s  horse  was  led  to  the  pile  fully  ca¬ 
parisoned  and  consumed  in  the  same  flames  with  his 
master. 

But  Loki  did  not  escape  his  deserved  punishment. 
When  he  saw  how  angry  the  gods  were,  he  fled  to  the 
mountain,  and  there  built  himself  a  hut  with  four  doors, 
so  that  he  could  see  every  approaching  danger.  He  in¬ 
vented  a  net  to  catch  the  fishes,  such  as  fishermen  have 
used  since  his  time.  But  Odin  found  out  his  hiding- 
place  and  the  gods  assembled  to  take  him.  He,  seeing 
this,  changed  himself  into  a  salmon,  and  lay  hid  among 
the  stones  of  the  brook.  But  the  gods  took  his  net 
and  dragged  the  brook,  and  Loki,  finding  he  must  be 
caught,  tried  to  leap  over  the  net;  but  Thor  caught  him 
by  the  tail  and  compressed  it,  so  that  salmons  ever  since 
have  had  that  part  remarkably  fine  and  thin.  They  bound 
him  with  chains  and  suspended  a  serpent  over  his  head, 
whose  venom  falls  upon  his  face  drop  by  drop.  His 
wife  Siguna  sits  by  his  side  and  catches  the  drops  as 
they  fall,  in  a  cup ;  but  when  she  carries  it  away  to 
empty  it,  the  venom  falls  upon  Loki,  which  makes  him 
howl  with  horror,  and  twist  his  body  about  so  violently 
that  the  whole  earth  shakes,  and  this  produces  what  men 
call  earthquakes. 


348  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


THE  ELVES 

The  Edda  mentions  another  class  of  beings,  inferior 
to  the  gods,  but  still  possessed  of  great  power;  these 
were  called  Elves.  The  white  spirits,  or  Elves  of 
Light,  were  exceedingly  fair,  more  brilliant  than  the 
sun,  and  clad  in  garments  of  a  delicate  and  transparent 
texture.  They  loved  the  light,  were  kindly  disposed  to 
mankind,  and  generally  appeared  as  fair  and  lovely  chil¬ 
dren.  Their  country  was  called  Alfheim,  and  was  the 
domain  of  Freyr,  the  god  of  the  sun,  in  whose  light 
they  were  always  sporting. 

The  Black  or  Night  Elves  were  a  different  kind  of 
creatures.  Ugly,  long-nosed  dwarfs,  of  a  dirty  brown 
color,  they  appeared  only  at  night,  for  they  avoided  the 
sun  as  their  most  deadly  enemy,  because  whenever  his 
beams  fell  upon  any  of  them  they  changed  them  imme¬ 
diately  into  stones.  Their  language  was  the  echo  of 
solitudes,  and  their  dwelling-places  subterranean  caves 
and  clefts.  They  were  supposed  to  have  come  into  ex¬ 
istence  as  maggots  produced  by  the  decaying  flesh  of 
Ymir’s  body,  and  were  afterwards  endowed  by  the  gods 
with  a  human  form  and  great  understanding.  They 
were  particularly  distinguished  for  a  knowledge  of  the 
mysterious  powers  of  nature,  and  for  the  runes  which 
they  carved  and  explained.  They  were  the  most  skilful 
artificers  of  all  created  beings,  and  worked  in  metals  and 
in  wood.  Among  their  most  noted  works  were  Thor’s 
hammer,  and  the  ship  “Skidbladnir,”  which  they  gave 
to  Freyr,  and  which  was  so  large  that  it  could  contain 
all  the  deities  with  their  war  and  household  implements 
but  so  skillfully  was  it  wrought  that  when  folded  to¬ 
gether  it  could  be  put  into  a  side  pocket. 

RAGNAROK,  THE  TWILIGHT  OF  THE  GODS 

It  was  a  firm  belief  of  the  northern  nations  that  a  time 
would  come  when  all  the  visible  creation,  the  gods  of 
Valhalla  and  Niffieheim,  the  inhabitants  of  Jotunheim, 
Alfheim,  and  Midgard,  together  with  their  habitations, 
would  be  destroyed.  The  fearful  day  of  destruction 


RAGNAROK 


349 


will  not,  however,  be  without  its  forerunners.  First 
will  come  a  triple  winter,  during  which  snow  will  fall 
from  the  four  corners  of  the  heavens,  the  frost  be  very 
severe,  the  wind  piercing,  the  weather  tempestuous,  and 
the  sun  impart  no  gladness.  Three  such  winters  will 
pass  away  without  being  tempered  by  a  single  summer. 
Three  other  similar  winters  will  then  follow,  during 
which  war  and  discord  will  spread  over  the  universe. 
The  earth  itself  will  be  frightened  and  begin  to  tremble, 
the  sea  leave  its  basin,  the  heavens  tear  asunder,  and 
men  perish  in  great  numbers,  and  the  eagles  of  the  air 
feast  upon  their  still  quivering  bodies.  The  wolf  Fenris 
will  now  break  his  bands,  the  Midgard  serpent  rise  out 
of  her  bed  in  the  sea,  and  Loki,  released  from  his  bonds, 
will  join  the  enemies  of  the  gods.  Amidst  the  general 
devastation  the  sons  of  Muspelheim  will  rush  forth  un¬ 
der  their  leader  Surtur,  before  and  behind  whom  are 
flames  and  burning  fire.  Onward  they  ride  over  Bifrost, 
the  rainbow  bridge,  which  breaks  under  the  horses' 
hoofs.  But  they,  disregarding  its  fall,  direct  their 
course  to  the  battlefield  called  Vigrid.  Thither  also  re¬ 
pair  the  wolf  Fenris,  the  Midgard  serpent,  Loki  with 
all  the  followers  of  Hela,  and  the  Frost  giants. 

Heimdall  now  stands  up  and  sounds  the  Giallar  horn 
to  assemble  the  gods  and  heroes  for  the  contest.  The 
gods  advance,  led  on  by  Odin,  who  engages  the  wolf 
Fenris,  but  falls  a  victim  to  the  monster,  who  is,  how¬ 
ever,  slain  by  Vidar,  Odin’s  son.  Thor  gains  great  re¬ 
nown  by  killing  the  Midgard  serpent,  but  recoils  and 
falls  dead,  suffocated  with  the  venom  which  the  dying 
monster  vomits  over  him.  Loki  and  Heimdall  meet 
and  fight  till  they  are  both  slain.  The  gods  and  their 
enemies  having  fallen  in  battle,  Surtur,  who  has  killed 
Freyr,  darts  fire  and  flames  over  the  world,  and  the 
whole  universe  is  burned  up.  The  sun  becomes  dim, 
the  earth  sinks  into  the  ocean,  the  stars  fall  from  heaven, 
and  time  is  no  more. 

After  this  Alfadur  (the  Almighty)  will  cause  a  new 
heaven  and  a  new  earth  to  arise  out  of  the  sea.  The 
new  earth  filled  with  abundant  supplies  will  spontane¬ 
ously  produce  its  fruits  without  labor  or  care.  Wicked- 


350  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


ness  and  misery  will  no  more  be  known,  but  the  gods 
and  men  will  live  happily  together. 

RUNIC  LETTERS 

One  cannot  travel  far  in  Denmark,  Norway,  or 
Sweden  without  meeting  with  great  stones  of  different 
forms,  engraven  with  characters  called  Runic,  which 
appear  at  first  sight  very  different  from  all  we  know. 
The  letters  consist  almost  invariably  of  straight  lines, 
in  the  shape  of  little  sticks  either  singly  or  put  together. 
Such  sticks  were  in  early  times  used  by  the  northern 
nations  for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  future  events. 
The  sticks  were  shaken  up,  and  from  the  figures  that 
they  formed  a  kind  of  divination  was  derived. 

The  Runic  characters  were  of  various  kinds.  They 
were  chiefly  used  for  magical  purposes.  The  noxious, 
or,  as  they  called  them,  the  bitter  runes,  were  em¬ 
ployed  to  bring  various  evils  on  their  enemies ;  the  favor¬ 
able  averted  misfortune.  Some  were  medicinal,  others 
employed  to  win  love,  etc.  In  later  times  they  were 
frequently  used  for  inscriptions,  of  which  more  than  a 
thousand  have  been  found.  The  language  is  a  dialect  of 
the  Gothic,  called  Norse,  still  in  use  in  Iceland.  The 
inscriptions  may  therefore  be  read  with  certainty,  but 
hitherto  very  few  have  been  found  which  throw  the 
least  light  on  history.  They  are  mostly  epitaphs  on 
tombstones. 

Gray’s  ode  on  the  “Descent  of  Odin”  contains  an  al¬ 
lusion  to  the  use  of  Runic  letters  for  incantation : 

“Facing  to  the  northern  clime, 

Thrice  he  traced  the  Runic  rhyme; 

Thrice  pronounced,  in  accents  dread, 

The  thrilling  verse  that  wakes  the  dead. 

Till  from  out  the  hollow  ground 
Slowly  breathed  a  sullen  sound.” 

THE  SKALDS 

The  Skalds  were  the  bards  and  poets  of  the  nation, 
a  very  important  class  of  men  in  all  communities  in  an 
early  stage  of  civilization.  They  are  the  depositaries  of 


TEUTONIC  MYTHOLOGY 


351 


whatever  historic  lore  there  is,  and  it  is  their  office  to 
mingle  something  of  intellectual  gratification  with  the 
rude  feasts  of  the  warriors,  by  rehearsing,  with  such 
accompaniments  of  poetry  and  music  as  their  skill  can 
afford,  the  exploits  of  their  heroes  living  or  dead.  The 
compositions  of  the  Skalds  were  called  Sagas,  many  of 
which  have  come  down  to  us,  and  contain  valuable  ma¬ 
terials  of  history,  and  a  faithful  picture  of  the  state  of 
society  at  the  time  to  which  they  relate. 

ICELAND 

The  Eddas  and  Sagas  have  come  to  us  from  Iceland. 
The  following  extract  from  Carlyle’s  lectures  on  “Heroes 
and  Hero  Worship”  gives  an  animated  account  of  the 
region  where  the  strange  stories  we  have  been  reading 
had  their  origin.  Let  the  reader  contrast  it  for  a  mo¬ 
ment  with  Greece,  the  parent  of  classical  mythology : 

“In  that  strange  island,  Iceland, — burst  up,  the  geolo¬ 
gists  say,  by  fire  from  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  a  wild  land 
of  barrenness  and  lava,  swallowed  many  months  of  every 
year  in  black  tempests,  yet  with  a  wild,  gleaming  beauty 
in  summer  time,  towering  up  there  stern  and  grim  in 
the  North  Ocean,  with  its  snow  yokuls  [mountains], 
roaring  geysers  [boiling  springs],  sulphur  pools,  and 
horrid  volcanic  chasms,  like  the  waste,  chaotic  battle¬ 
field  of  Frost  and  Fire, — where,  of  all  places,  we  least 
looked  for  literature  or  written  memorials, — the  record 
of  these  things  was  written  down.  On  the  seaboard  of 
this  wild  land  is  a  rim  of  grassy  country,  where  cattle 
can  subsist,  and  men  by  means  of  them  and  of  what  the 
sea  yields;  and  it  seems  they  were  poetic  men  these, 
men  who  had  deep  thoughts  in  them  and  uttered  music¬ 
ally  their  thoughts.  Much  would  be  lost  had  Ice¬ 
land  not  been  burst  up  from  the  sea,  not  been  discovered 
by  the  Northmen!” 

TEUTONIC  MYTHOLOGY 

In  the  mythology  of  Germany  proper,  the  name  of 
Odin  appears  as  Wotan;  Freya  and  Frigga  are  regarded 
as  one  and  the  same  divinity,  and  the  gods  are  in  general 


352  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


represented  as  less  warlike  in  character  than  those  in 
the  Scandinavian  myths.  As  a  whole,  however,  Teu¬ 
tonic  mythology  runs  along  almost  identical  lines 
with  that  of  the  northern  nations.  The  most  notable 
divergence  is  due  to  modifications  of  the  legends  by 
reason  of  the  difference  in  climatic  conditions.  The 
more  advanced  social  condition  of  the  Germans  is  also 
apparent  in  their  mythology. 

THE  NIBELUNGEN  LIED 

One  of  the  oldest  myths  of  the  Teutonic  race  is  found 
in  the  great  national  epic  of  the  Nibelungen  Lied,  which 
dates  back  to  the  prehistoric  era  when  Wotan,  Frigga, 
Thor,  Loki,  and  the  other  gods  and  goddesses  were 
worshipped  in  the  German  forests.  The  epic  is  divided 
into  two  parts,  the  first  of  which  tells  how  Siegfried, 
the  youngest  of  the  kings  of  the  Netherlands,  went  to 
Worms,  to  ask  in  marriage  the  hand  of  Kriemhild,  sister 
of  Gunther,  King  of  Burgundy.  While  he  was  staying 
with  Gunther,  Siegfried  helped  the  Burgundian  king  to 
secure  as  his  wife  Brunhild,  queen  of  Issland.  The 
latter  had  announced  publicly  that  he  only  should  be  her 
husband  who  could  beat  her  in  hurling  a  spear,  throwing 
a  huge  stone,  and  in  leaping.  Siegfried,  who  possessed 
a  cloak  of  invisibility,  aided  Gunther  in  these  three  con¬ 
tests,  and  Brunhild  became  his  wife.  In  return  for  these 
services,  Gunther  gave  Siegfried  his  sister  Kriemhild  in 
marriage. 

After  some  time  had  elapsed,  Siegfried  and  Kriem¬ 
hild  went  to  visit  Gunther,  when  the  two  women  fell  into 
a  dispute  about  the  relative  merits  of  their  husbands. 
Kriemhild,  to  exalt  Siegfried,  boasted  that  it  was  to  the 
latter  that  Gunther  owed  his  victories  and  his  wife. 
Brunhild,  in  great  anger,  employed  Hagan,  liegeman  of 
Gunther,  to  murder  Siegfried.  In  the  epic  Hagan  is  de¬ 
scribed  as  follows : 

“Well-grown  and  well-compacted  was  that  redoubted  guest; 

Long  were  his  legs  and  sinewy,  and  deep  and  broad  his  chest; 

His  hair,  that  once  was  sable,  with  gray  was  dashed  of  late; 

Most  terrible  his  visage,  and  lordly  was  his  gait” 

— Nibelungen  Liedj  stanza  1789. 


THE  NIBELUNGEN  HOARD 


353 


This  Achilles  of  German  romance  stabbed  Siegfried 
between  the  shoulders,  as  the  unfortunate  King  of  the 
Netherlands  was  stooping  to  drink  from  a  brook  during 
a  hunting  expedition. 

The  second  part  of  the  epic  relates  how,  thirteen  years 
later,  Kriemhild  married  Etzel,  King  of  the  Huns. 
After  a  time,  she  invited  the  King  of  Burgundy,  with 
Hagan  and  many  others,  to  the  court  of  her  husband. 
A  fearful  quarrel  was  stirred  up  in  the  banquet  hall, 
which  ended  in  the  slaughter  of  all  the  Burgundians  but 
Gunther  and  Hagan.  These  two  were  taken  prisoners 
and  given  to  Kriemhild,  who  with  her  own  hand  cut  off 
the  heads  of  both.  For  this  bloody  act  of  vengeance 
Kriemhild  was  herself  slain  by  Hildebrand,  a  magician 
and  champion,  who  in  German  mythology  holds  a  place 
to  an  extent  corresponding  to  that  of  Nestor  in  the 
Greek  mythology. 

THE  NIBELUNGEN  HOARD 

This  was  a  mythical  mass  of  gold  and  precious  stones 
which  Siegfried  obtained  from  the  Nibelungs,  the  people 
of  the  north  whom  he  had  conquered  and  whose  country 
he  had  made  tributary  to  his  own  kingdom  of  the  Nether¬ 
lands.  Upon  his  marriage,  Siegfried  gave  the  treasure 
to  Kriemhild  as  her  wedding  portion.  After  the  murder 
of  Siegfried,  Hagan  seized  it  and  buried  it  secretly  be¬ 
neath  the  Rhine  at  Lochham,  intending  to  recover  it  at 
a  future  period.  The  hoard  was  lost  forever  when 
Hagan  was  killed  by  Kriemhild.  Its  wonders  are  thus 
set  forth  in  the  poem : 

“  ’Twas  as  much  as  twelve  huge  wagons  in  four  whole  nights 
and  days 

Could  carry  from  the  mountain  down  to  the  salt  sea  bay; 

Though  to  and  fro  each  wagon  thrice  journeyed  every  day. 

*  It  was  made  up  of  nothing  but  precious  stones  and  gold; 

Were  all  the  world  bought  from  it,  and  down  the  value  told, 

Not  a  mark  the  less  would  there  be  left  than  erst  there  was,  I 
ween.” 

— Nibelungen  Lied,  XIX. 


354  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


Whoever  possessed  the  Nibelungen  hoard  were 
termed  Nibelungers.  Thus  at  one  time  certain  people 
of  Norway  were  so  called.  When  Siegfried  held  the 
treasure  he  received  the  title  “King  of  the  Nibelungers.,, 

WAGNER* S  NIBELUNGEN  RING 

Though  Richard  Wagner’s  music-drama  of  the  Nibe¬ 
lungen  Ring  bears  some  resemblance  to  the  ancient  Ger¬ 
man  epic,  it  is  a  wholly  independent  composition  and 
was  derived  from  various  old  songs  and  sagas,  which 
the  dramatist  wove  into  one  great  harmonious  story. 
The  principal  source  was  the  Volsunga  Saga,  while 
lesser  parts  were  taken  from  the  Elder  Edda  and  the 
Younger  Edda,  and  others  from  the  Nibelungen  Lied, 
the  Ecklenlied,  and  other  Teutonic  folklore. 

In  the  drama  there  are  at  first  only  four  distinct  races, 
— the  gods,  the  giants,  the  dwarfs,  and  the  nymphs. 
Later,  by  a  special  creation,  there  come  the  valkyrie  and 
the  heroes.  The  gods  are  the  noblest  and  highest  race, 
and  dwell  first  in  the  mountain  meadows,  later  in  the 
palace  of  Valhalla  on  the  heights.  The  giants  are  a 
great  and  strong  race,  but  lack  wisdom;  they  hate  what 
is  noble,  and  are  enemies  of  the  gods ;  they  dwell  in  caves 
near  the  earth’s  surface.  The  dwarfs,  or  nibelungs,  are 
black  uncouth  pigmies,  hating  the  good,  hating  the  gods ; 
they  are  crafty  and  cunning,  and  dwell  in  the  bowels  of 
the  earth.  The  nymphs  are  pure,  innocent  creatures  of 
the  water.  The  valkyrie  are  daughters  of  the  gods,  but 
mingled  with  a  mortal  strain;  they  gather  dead  heroes 
from  the  battle-fields  and  carry  them  to  Valhalla.  The 
heroes  are  children  of  the  gods,  but  also  mingled  with 
a  mortal  strain;  they  are  destined  to  become  at  last  the 
highest  race  of  all,  and  to  succeed  the  gods  in  the  govern¬ 
ment  of  the  world. 

The  principal  gods  are  Wotan,  Loki,  Donner,  and 
Froh.  The  chief  giants  are  Fafner  and  Fasolt,  brothers. 
The  chief  dwarfs  are  Alberich  and  Mime,  brothers,  and 
later  Hagan,  son  of  Alberich.  The  chief  nymphs  are 
the  Rhine-daughters,  Flosshilda,  Woglinda,,  and  Well- 
gunda.  There  are  nine  Valkyrie,  of  whom  Brunhild 
is  the  leading  one. 


WAGNER’S  NIBELUNGEN  RING 


355 


Wagner’s  story  of  the  Ring  may  be  summarized  as 
follows : 

A  hoard  of  gold  exists  in  the  depths  of  the  Rhine, 
guarded  by  the  innocent  Rhine-maidens.  Alberich,  the 
dwarf,  forswears  love  to  gain  this  gold.  He  makes  it 
into  a  magic  ring.  It  gives  him  all  power,  and  he  gathers 
by  it  a  vast  amount  of  treasures. 

Meanwhile  Wotan,  chief  of  the  gods,  has  engaged  the 
giants  to  build  for  him  a  noble  castle,  Valhalla,  from 
whence  to  rule  the  world,  promising  in  payment  Freya, 
goddess  of  youth  and  love.  But  the  gods  find  they  cannot 
spare  Freya,  as  they  are  dependent  on  her  for  their  im¬ 
mortal  youth.  Loki,  called  upon  to  provide  a  substitute, 
tells  of  Alberich’s  magic  ring  and  other  treasure.  Wotan 
goes  with  Loki,  and  they  steal  the  ring  and  the  golden 
hoard  from  Alberich,  who  curses  the  ring  and  lays  the 
curse  on  all  who  shall  henceforth  possess  it.  The  gods 
give  the  ring  and  the  treasure  to  the  giants  as  a  sub¬ 
stitute  for  Freya.  The  curse  at  once  begins.  One  giant, 
Fafner,  kills  his  brother  to  get  all,  and  transforms  him¬ 
self  into  a  dragon  to  guard  his  wealth.  The  gods  enter 
Valhalla  over  the  rainbow  bridge.  This  ends  the  first 
part  of  the  drama,  called  the  Rhine-Gold. 

The  second  part,  the  Valkyrie,  relates  how  Wotan  still 
covets  the  ring.  He  cannot  take  it  himself,  for  he  has 
given  his  word  to  the  giants.  He  stands  or  falls  by  his 
word.  So  he  devises  an  artifice  to  get  the  ring.  He 
will  get  a  hero-race  to  work  for  him  and  recover  the 
ring  and  the  treasures.  Siegmund  and  Sieglinda  are 
twin  children  of  this  new  race.  Sieglinda  is  carried  off 
as  a  child  and  is  forced  into  marriage  with  Hunding. 
Siegmund  comes,  and  unknowingly  breaks  the  law  of 
marriage,  but  wins  Nothung,  the  great  sword, 
and  a  bride.  Brunhild,  chief  of  the  Valkyrie,  is  com¬ 
missioned  by  Wotan  at  the  instance  of  Fricka,  god¬ 
dess  of  marriage,  to  slay  him  for  his  sin.  She  disobeys 
and  tries  to  save  him,  but  Hunding,  helped  by  Wotan, 
slays  him.  Sieglinda,  however,  about  to  bear  the  free 
hero,  to  be  called  Siegfried,  is  saved  by  Brunhild,  and 
hid  in  the  forest.  Brunhild  herself  is  punished  by 
being  made  a  mortal  woman.  She  is  left  sleeping  on  the 


356  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


mountains  with  a  wall  of  fire  around  her  which  only  a 
hero  can  penetrate. 

The  drama  continues  with  the  story  of  Siegfried, 
which  opens  with  a  scene  in  the  smithy  between  Mime 
the  dwarf  and  Siegfried.  Mime  is  welding  a  sword, 
and  Siegfried  scorns  him.  Mime  tells  him  something  of 
his  mother,  Sieglinda,  and  shows  him  the  broken  pieces 
of  his  father’s  sword.  Wotan  comes  and  tells  Mime  that 
only  one  who  has  no  fear  can  remake  the  sword.  Now 
Siegfried  knows  no  fear  and  soon  remakes  the  sword 
Nothung.  Wotan  and  Alberich  come  to  where  the 
dragon  Fafner  is  guarding  the  ring.  They  both  long  for 
it,  but  neither  can  take  it.  Soon  Mime  comes  bringing 
Siegfried  with  the  mighty  sword.  Fafner  comes  out,  but 
Siegfried  slays  him.  Happening  to  touch  his  lips  with 
the  dragon’s  blood,  he  understands  the  language  of  the 
birds.  They  tell  him  of  the  ring.  He  goes  and  gets  it. 
Siegfried  now  has  possession  of  the  ring,  but  it  is  to 
bring  him  nothing  of  happiness,  only  evil.  It  is  to  curse 
love  and  finally  bring  death.  The  birds  also  tell  him  of 
Mime’s  treachery.  He  slays  Mime.  He  longs  for  some 
one  to  love.  The  birds  tell  him  of  the  slumbering 
Brunnhilda,  whom  he  finds  and  marries. 

The  Dusk  of  the  Gods  portrays  at  the  opening  the 
three  norns  or  fates  weaving  and  measuring  the  thread 
of  destiny.  It  is  the  beginning  of  the  end.  The  perfect 
pair,  Siegfried  and  Brunhild,  appear  in  all  the  glory 
of  their  life,  splendid  ideals  of  manhood  and  womanhood. 
But  Siegfried  goes  out  into  the  world  to  achieve  deeds 
of  prowess.  He  gives  her  the  Nibelungen  ring  to  keep 
as  a  pledge  of  his  love  till  his  return.  Meanwhile  Al¬ 
berich  also  has  begotten  a  son,  Hagan,  to  achieve  for 
him  the  possession  of  the  ring.  He  is  partly  of  the 
Gibichung  race,  and  works  through  Gunther  and  Gut- 
rune,  half-brother  and  half-sister  to  him.  They  beguile 
Siegfried  to  them,  give  him  a  magic  draught  which 
makes  him  forget  Brunhild  and  fall  in  love  with  Gut- 
rune.  Under  this  same  spell,  he  ofifers  to  bring  Brun¬ 
hild  for  wife  to  Gunther.  Now  is  Valhalla  full  of 
sorrow  and  despair.  The  gods  fear  the  end.  Wotan 
murmurs,  “O  that  she  would  give  back  the  ring  to  the 


WAGNER’S  NIBELUNGEN  RING 


357 


Rhine.”  But  Brunhild  will  not  give  it  up, — it  is  now 
her  pledge  of  love.  Siegfried  comes,  takes  the  ring,  and 
Brunhild  is  now  brought  to  the  Rhine  castle  of  the 
Gibichungs,  but  Siegfried  under  the  spell  does  not  love 
her.  She  is  to  be  wedded  to  Gunther.  She  rises  in 
wrath  and  denounces  Siegfried.  But  at  a  hunting  ban¬ 
quet  Siegfried  is  given  another  magic  draught,  remem¬ 
bers  all,  and  is  slain  by  Hagan  by  a  blow  in  the  back,  as 
he  calls  on  Brunhild’s  name  in  love.  Then  comes  the 
end.  The  body  of  Siegfried  is  burned  on  a  funeral 
pyre,  a  grand  funeral  march  is  heard,  and  Brunhild 
rides  into  the  flames  and  sacrifices  herself  for  love’s 
sake;  the  ring  goes  back  to  the  Rhine-daughters ;  and 
the  old  world — of  the  gods  of  Valhalla,  of  passion  and 
sin — is  burnt  up  with  flames,  for  the  gods  have  broken 
moral  law,  and  coveted  power  rather  than  love,  gold 
rather  than  truth,  and  therefore  must  perish.  They  pass, 
and  a  new  era,  the  reign  of  love  and  truth,  has  begun. 

Those  who  wish  to  study  the  differences  in  the  legends 
of  the  Nibelungen  Lied  and  the  Nibelungen  Ring,  and 
the  way  in  which  Wagner  used  his  ancient  material,  are 
referred  to  Professor  W.  C.  Sawyer’s  book  on  “Teu¬ 
tonic  Legends  in  the  Nibelungen  Lied  and  the  Nibe¬ 
lungen  Ring,”  where  the  matter  is  treated  in  full  detail. 
For  a  very  thorough  and  clear  analysis  of  the  Ring  as 
Wagner  gives  it,  with  a  study  of  the  musical  motifs, 
probably  nothing  is  better  for  general  readers  than 
the  volume  “The  Epic  of  Sounds,”  by  Freda  Winworth. 
The  more  scholarly  work  of  Professor  Lavignac  is  indis¬ 
pensable  for  the  student  of  Wagner’s  dramas.  There 
is  much  illuminating  comment  on  the  sources  and  ma¬ 
terials  in  “Legends  of  the  Wagner  Drama”  by  J.  L. 
Weston. 


358  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


CHAPTER  XLI 

THE  DRUIDS — IONA 
DRUIDS 

The  Druids  were  the  priests  or  ministers  of  religion 
among  the  ancient  Celtic  nations  in  Gaul,  Britain,  and 
Germany.  Our  information  respecting  them  is  bor¬ 
rowed  from  notices  in  the  Greek  and  Roman  writers, 
compared  with  the  remains  of  Welsh  and  Gaelic  poetry 
still  extant. 

The  Druids  combined  the  functions  of  the  priest,  the 
magistrate,  the  scholar,  and  the  physician.  They  stood 
to  the  people  of  the  Celtic  tribes  in  a  relation  closely 
analogous  to  that  in  which  the  Brahmans  of  India,  the 
Magi  of  Persia,  and  the  priests  of  the  Egyptians  stood 
to  the  people  respectively  by  whom  they  were  revered. 

The  Druids  taught  the  existence  of  one  god,  to  whom 
they  gave  a  name  “Be’  al,”  which  Celtic  antiquaries  tell 
us  means  “the  life  of  everything,”  or  “the  source  of  all 
beings,”  and  which  seems  to  have  affinity  with  the 
Phoenician  Baal.  What  renders  this  affinity  more  strik¬ 
ing  is  that  the  Druids  as  well  as  the  Phoenicians  identi¬ 
fied  this,  their  supreme  deity,  with  the  Sun.  Fire  was 
regarded  as  a  symbol  of  the  divinity.  The  Latin  writers 
assert  that  the  Druids  also  worshipped  numerous  in¬ 
ferior  gods. 

They  used  no  images  to  represent  the  object  of  their 
worship,  nor  did  they  meet  in  temples  or  buildings  of 
any  kind  for  the  performance  of  their  sacred  rites.  A 
circle  of  stones  (each  stone  generally  of  vast  size),  en¬ 
closing  an  area  of  from  twenty  feet  to  thirty  yards  in 
diameter,  constituted  their  sacred  place.  The  most  cele¬ 
brated  of  these  now  remaining  is  Stonehenge,  on  Salis¬ 
bury  Plain,  England. 

These  sacred  circles  were  generally  situated  near 
some  stream,  or  under  the  shadow  of  a  grove  or  wide- 
spreading  oak.  In  the  centre  of  the  circle  stood  the 


DRUIDS 


359 


Cromlech  or  altar,  which  was  a  large  stone,  placed  in 
the  manner  of  a  table  upon  other  stones  set  up  on  end. 
The  Druids  had  also  their  high  places,  which  were 
large  stones  or  piles  of  stones  on  the  summits  of  hills. 
These  were  called  Cairns,  and  were  used  in  the  worship 
of  the  deity  under  the  symbol  of  the  sun. 

That  the  Druids  offered  sacrifices  to  their  deity  there 
can  be  no  doubt.  But  there  is  some  uncertainty  as  to 
what  they  offered,  and  of  the  ceremonies  connected  with 
their  religious  services  we  know  almost  nothing.  The 
classical  (Roman)  writers  affirm  that  they  offered  on 
great  occasions  human  sacrifices;  as  for  success  in  war 
or  for  relief  from  dangerous  diseases.  Caesar  has  given 
a  detailed  account  of  the  manner  in  which  this  was  done. 
“They  have  images  of  immense  size,  the  limbs  of  which 
are  framed  with  twisted  twigs  and  filled  with  living  per¬ 
sons.  These  being  set  on  fire,  those  within  are  encom¬ 
passed  by  the  flames.”  Many  attempts  have  been  made 
by  Celtic  writers  to  shake  the  testimony  of  the  Roman 
historians  to  this  fact,  but  without  success. 

The  Druids  observed  two  festivals  in  each  year.  The 
former  took  place  in  the  beginning  of  May,  and  was 
called  Beltane  or  “fire  of  God.”  On  this  occasion  a 
large  fire  was  kindled  on  some  elevated  spot,  in  honor 
of  the  sun,  whose  returning  beneficence  they  thus  wel¬ 
comed  after  the  gloom  and  desolation  of  winter.  Of 
this  custom  a  trace  remains  in  the  name  given  to  Whit¬ 
sunday  in  parts  of  Scotland  to  this  day.  Sir  Walter 
Scott  uses  the  word  in  the  “Boat  Song”  in  the  “Lady 
of  the  Lake” : 

“Ours  is  no  sapling,  chance  sown  by  the  fountain. 
Blooming  at  Beltane  in  winter  to  fade;”  etc. 

The  other  great  festival  of  the  Druids  was  called 
“Samh’in,”  or  “fire  of  peace,”  and  was  held  on  Hallow- 
eve  (first  of  November),  which  still  retains  this  designa¬ 
tion  in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland.  On  this  occasion  the 
Druids  assembled  in  solemn  conclave,  in  the  most  cen¬ 
tral  part  of  the  district,  to  discharge  the  judicial  func¬ 
tions  of  their  order.  All  questions,  whether  public  or 


360  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


private,  all  crimes  against  person  or  property,  were  at 
this  time  brought  before  them  for  adjudication.  With 
these  judicial  acts  were  combined  certain  superstitious 
usages,  especially  the  kindling  of  the  sacred  fire,  from 
which  all  the  fires  in  the  district,  which  had  been  before¬ 
hand  scrupulously  extinguished,  might  be  relighted.  This 
usage  of  kindling  fires  on  Hallow-eve  lingered  in  the 
British  islands  long  after  the  establishment  of  Chris¬ 
tianity. 

Besides  these  two  great  annual  festivals,  the  Druids 
were  in  the  habit  of  observing  the  full  moon,  and  espe¬ 
cially  the  sixth  day  of  the  moon.  On  the  latter  they 
sought  the  Mistletoe,  which  grew  on  their  favorite  oaks, 
and  to  which,  as  well  as  to  the  oak  itself,  they  ascribed 
a  peculiar  virtue  and  sacredness.  The  discovery  of  it 
was  an  occasion  of  rejoicing  and  solemn  worship. 
“They  call  it,”  says  Pliny,  “by  a  word  in  their  language, 
which  means  ‘heal-all,’  and  having  made  solemn  prep¬ 
aration  for  feasting  and  sacrifice  under  the  tree,  they 
drive  thither  two  milk-white  bulls,  whose  horns  are  then 
for  the  first  time  bound.  The  priest  then,  robed  in 
white,  ascends  the  tree,  and  cuts  off  the  mistletoe  with 
a  golden  sickle.  It  is  caught  in  a  white  mantle,  after 
which  they  proceed  to  slay  the  victims,  at  the  same  time 
praying  that  God  would  render  his  gift  prosperous  to 
those  to  whom  he  had  given  it.”  They  drink  the  water 
in  which  it  has  been  infused,  and  think  it  a  remedy  for 
all  diseases.  The  mistletoe  is  a  parasitic  plant,  and  is 
not  always  nor  often  found  on  the  oak,  so  that  when 
it  is  found  it  is  the  more  precious. 

The  Druids  were  the  teachers  of  morality  as  well  as 
of  religion.  Of  their  ethical  teaching  a  valuable  speci¬ 
men  is  preserved  in  the  Triads  of  the  Welsh  Bards, 
and  from  this  we  may  gather  that  their  views  of  moral 
rectitude  were  on  the  whole  just,  and  that  they  held 
and  inculcated  many  very  noble  and  valuable  principles 
of  conduct.  They  were  also  the  men  of  science  and 
learning  of  their  age  and  people.  Whether  they  were 
acquainted  with  letters  or  not  has  been  disputed,  though 
the  probability  is  strong  that  they  were,  to  some  extent. 
But  it  is  certain  that  they  committed  nothing  of  their 


STONEHENGE. 


DRUIDS 


36V 


doctrine,  their  history,  or  their  poetry  to  writing.  Their 
teaching  was  oral,  and  their  literature  (if  such  a  word 
may  be  used  in  such  a  case)  was  preserved  solely  by 
tradition.  But  the  Roman  writers  admit  that  “they  paid 
much  attention  to  the  order  and  laws  of  nature,  and  in¬ 
vestigated  and  taught  to  the  youth  under  their  charge 
many  things  concerning  the  stars  and  their  motions,  the 
size  of  the  world  and  the  lands,  and  concerning  the 
might  and  power  of  the  immortal  gods.” 

Their  history  consisted  in  traditional  tales,  in  which 
the  heroic  deeds  of  their  forefathers  were  celebrated. 
These  were  apparently  in  verse,  and  thus  constituted 
part  of  the  poetry  as  well  as  the  history  of  the  Druids. 
In  the  poems  of  Ossian  we  have,  if  not  the  actual  pro¬ 
ductions  of  Druidical  times,  what  may  be  considered 
faithful  representations  of  the  songs  of  the  Bards. 

The  Bards  were  an  essential  part  of  the  Druidical 
hierarchy.  One  author,  Pennant,  says,  “The  Bards 
were  supposed  to  be  endowed  with  powers  equal  to 
inspiration.  They  were  the  oral  historians  of  all  past 
transactions,  public  and  private.  They  were  also  ac¬ 
complished  genealogists,”  etc. 

Pennant  gives  a  minute  account  of  the  Eisteddfods 
or  sessions  of  the  Bards  and  minstrels,  which  were  held 
in  Wales  for  many  centuries,  long  after  the  Druidical 
priesthood  in  its  other  departments  became  extinct.  At 
these  meetings  none  but  Bards  of  merit  were  suffered  to 
rehearse  their  pieces,  and  minstrels  of  skill  to  perform. 
Judges  were  appointed  to  decide  on  their  respective 
abilities,  and  suitable  degrees  were  conferred.  In  the 
earlier  period  the  judges  were  appointed  by  the  Welsh 
princes,  and  after  the  conquest  of  Wales,  by  commis¬ 
sion  from  the  kings  of  England.  Yet  the  tradition  is 
that  Edward  I.,  in  revenge  for  the  influence  of  the 
Bards  in  animating  the  resistance  of  the  people  to  his 
sway,  persecuted  them  with  great  cruelty.  This  tra¬ 
dition  has  furnished  the  poet  Gray  with  the  subject  of 
his  celebrated  ode,  the  “Bard.” 

There  are  still  occasional  meetings  of  the  lovers  of 
Welsh  poetry  and  music,  held  under  the  ancient  name. 
Among  Mrs.  Hemans’  poems  is  one  written  for  an 


362  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


\ 


Eisteddfod,  or  meeting  of  Welsh  Bards,  held  in  Lon¬ 
don,  May  22,  1822.  It  begins  with  a  description  of 
the  ancient  meeting,  of  which  the  following  lines  are  a 
part : 

“  .  .  midst  the  eternal  cliffs,  whose  strength  defied 
The  crested  Roman  in  his  hour  of  pride; 

And  where  the  Druid’s  ancient  cromlech  frowned, 

And  the  oaks  breathed  mysterious  murmurs  round, 

There  thronged  the  inspired  of  yore!  on  plain  or  height, 

In  the  sun’s  face,  beneath  the  eye  of  light, 

And  baring  unto  heaven  each  noble  head, 

Stood  in  the  circle,  where  none  else  might  tread.” 

The  Druidical  system  was  at  its  height  at  the  time 
of  the  Roman  invasion  under  Julius  Caesar.  Against 
the  Druids,  as  their  chief  enemies,  these  conquerors  of 
the  world  directed  their  unsparing  fury.  The  Druids, 
harassed  at  all  points  on  the  mainland,  retreated  to 
Anglesey  and  Iona,  where  for  a  season  they  found  shel¬ 
ter  and  continued  their  now  dishonored  rites. 

The  Druids  retained  their  predominance  in  Iona  and 
over  the  adjacent  islands  and  mainland  until  they  were 
supplanted  and  their  superstitions  overturned  by  the 
arrival  of  St.  Columba,  the  apostle  of  the  Highlands, 
by  whom  the  inhabitants  of  that  district  were  first  led 
to  profess  Christianity. 


IONA 

One  of  the  smallest  of  the  British  Isles,  situated  near 
a  rugged  and  barren  coast,  surrounded  by  dangerous 
seas,  and  possessing  no  sources  of  internal  wealth,  Iona 
has  obtained  an  imperishable  place  in  history  as  the 
seat  of  civilization  and  religion  at  a  time  when  the 
darkness  of  heathenism  hung  over  almost  the  whole  of 
Northern  Europe.  Iona  or  Icolmkill  is  situated  at  the 
extremity  of  the  island  of  Mull,  from  which  it  is  sep¬ 
arated  by  a  strait  of  half  a  mile  in  breadth,  its  distance 
from  the  mainland  of  Scotland  being  thirty-six  miles. 

Columba  was  a  native  of  Ireland,  and  connected  by 
birth  with  the  princes  of  the  land.  Ireland  was  at 
that  time  a  land  of  gospel  light,  while  the  western  and 


IONA 


363 


northern  parts  of  Scotland  were  still  immersed  in  the 
darkness  of  heathenism.  Columba  with  twelve  friends 
landed  on  the  island  of  Iona  in  the  year  of  our  Lord 
563,  having  made  the  passage  in  a  wicker  boat  cov¬ 
ered  with  hides.  The  Druids  who  occupied  the  island 
endeavored  to  prevent  his  settling  there,  and  the  savage 
nations  on  the  adjoining  shores  incommoded  him  with 
their  hostility,  and  on  several  occasions  endangered  his 
life  by  their  attacks.  Yet  by  his  perseverance  and  zeal 
he  surmounted  all  opposition,  procured  from  the  king 
a  gift  of  the  island,  and  established  there  a  monastery 
of  which  he  was  the  abbot.  He  was  unwearied  in  his 
labors  to  disseminate  a  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures 
throughout  the  Highlands  and  islands  of  Scotland,  and 
such  was  the  reverence  paid  him  that  though  not  a 
bishop,  but  merely  a  presbyter  and  monk,  the  entire 
province  with  its  bishops  was  subject  to  him  and  his 
successors.  The  Pictish  monarch  was  so  impressed  with 
a  sense  of  his  wisdom  and  worth  that  he  held  him  in 
the  highest  honor,  and  the  neighboring  chiefs  and 
princes  sought  his  counsel  and  availed  themselves  of 
his  judgment  in  settling  their  disputes. 

When  Columba  landed  on  Iona  he  was  attended  by 
twelve  followers  whom  he  had  formed  into  a  religious 
body  of  which  he  was  the  head.  To  these,  as  occa¬ 
sion  required,  others  were  from  time  to  time  added,  so 
that  the  original  number  was  always  kept  up.  Their 
institution  was  called  a  monastery  and  the  superior 
an  abbot,  but  the  system  had  little  in  common  with  the 
monastic  institutions  of  later  times.  The  name  by  which 
those  who  submitted  to  the  rule  were  known  was  that 
of  Culdees,  probably  from  the  Latin  “cultores  Dei” — 
worshippers  of  God.  They  were  a  body  of  religious 
persons  associated  together  for  the  purpose  of  aiding 
each  other  in  the  common  work  of  preaching  the  gos¬ 
pel  and  teaching  youth,  as  well  as  maintaining  in  them¬ 
selves  the  fervor  of  devotion  by  united  exercises  of  wor¬ 
ship.  On  entering  the  order  certain  vows  were  taken 
by  the  members,  but  they  were  not  those  which  were 
usually  imposed  by  monastic  orders,  for  of  these,  which 
are  three, — celibacy,  poverty,  and  obedience, — the  Cul- 


364  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


dees  were  bound  to  none  except  the  third.  To  poverty 
they  did  not  bind  themselves ;  on  the  contrary  they  seem 
to  have  labored  diligently  to  procure  for  themselves  and 
those  dependent  on  them  the  comforts  of  life.  Mar¬ 
riage  also  was  allowed  them,  and  most  of  them  seem 
to  have  entered  into  that  state.  True,  their  wives  were 
not  permitted  to  reside  with  them  at  the  institution,  but 
they  had  a  residence  assigned  to  them  in  an  adjacent 
locality.  Near  Iona  there  is  an  island  which  still  bears  the 
name  of  “Eilen  nam  ban/’  women’s  island,  where  their 
husbands  seem  to  have  resided  with  them,  except  when 
duty  required  their  presence  in  the  school  or  the  sanc¬ 
tuary. 

Campbell,  in  his  poem  of  “Reullura,”  alludes  to  the 
married  monks  of  Iona : 

“.  .  .  The  pure  Culdees 

Were  Albyn’s  earliest  priests  of  God, 

Ere  yet  an  island  of  her  seas 

By  foot  of  Saxon  monk  was  trod, 

Long  ere  her  churchmen  by  bigotry 
Were  barred  from  holy  wedlock’s  tie. 

’Twas  then  that  Aodh,  famed  afar, 

In  Iona  preached  the  word  with  power, 

And  Reullura,  beauty’s  star, 

Was  the  partner  of  his  bower.” 

In  one  of  his  “Irish  Melodies,”  Moore  gives  the  leg'- 
end  of  St.  Senanus  and  the  lady  who  sought  shelter  on 
the  island,  but  was  repulsed : 

“O,  haste  and  leave  this  sacred  isle, 

Unholy  bark,  ere  morning  smile; 

For  on  thy  deck,  though  dark  it  be, 

A  female  form  I  see ; 

And  I  have  sworn  this  sainted  sod 
Shall  ne’er  by  woman’s  foot  be  trod.” 

In  these  respects  and  in  others  the  Culdees  departed 
from  the  established  rules  of  the  Romish  church,  and 
consequently  were  deemed  heretical.  The  consequence 
was  that  as  the  power  of  the  latter  advanced  that  of  the 
Culdees  was  enfeebled.  It  was  not,  however,  till  the 
thirteenth  century  that  the  communities  of  the  Culdees 


/ 


IONA  365 

were  suppressed  and  the  members  dispersed.  They  still 
continued  to  labor  as  individuals,  and  resisted  the  inroads 
of  Papal  usurpation  as  they  best  might  till  the  light  of 
the  Reformation  dawned  on  the  world. 

Iona,  from  its  position  in  the  western  seas,  was  ex¬ 
posed  to  the  assaults  of  the  Norwegian  and  Danish  rov¬ 
ers  by  whom  those  seas  were  infested,  and  by  them  it 
was  repeatedly  pillaged,  its  dwellings  burned,  and  its 
peaceful  inhabitants  put  to  the  sword.  These  unfav¬ 
orable  circumstances  led  to  its  gradual  decline,  which 
was  expedited  by  the  subversion  of  the  Culdees  through¬ 
out  Scotland.  Under  the  reign  of  Popery  the  island 
became  the  seat  of  a  nunnery,  the  ruins  of  which  are 
still  seen.  At  the  Reformation,  the  nuns  were  allowed 
to  remain,  living  in  community,  when  the  abbey  was 
dismantled. 

Iona  is  now  chiefly  resorted  to  by  travellers  on  ac¬ 
count  of  the  numerous  ecclesiastical  and  sepulchral  re¬ 
mains  which  are  found  upon  it.  The  principal  of  these 
are  the  Cathedral  or  Abbey  Church  and  the  Chapel  of 
the  Nunnery.  Besides  these  remains  of  ecclesiastical 
antiquity,  there  are  some  of  an  earlier  date,  and  point¬ 
ing  to  the  existence  on  the  island  of  forms  of  worship 
and  belief  different  from  those  of  Christianity.  These 
are  the  circular  Cairns  which  are  found  in  various  parts, 
and  which  seem  to  have  been  of  Druidical  origin.  It  is 
in  reference  to  all  these  remains  of  ancient  religion  that 
Johnson  exclaims,  “That  man  is  little  to  be  envied  whose 
patriotism  would  not  gain  force  upon  the  plains  of 
Marathon,  or  whose  piety  would  not  grow  warmer  amid 
the  ruins  of  Iona.” 

In  the  “Lord  of  the  Isles”  Scott  beautifully  contrasts 
the  church  on  Iona  with  the  cave  of  Staffa,  opposite: 

“Nature  herself,  it  seemed,  would  raise 
A  minister  to  her  Maker’s  praise ! 

Not  for  a  meaner  use  ascend 
Her  columns,  or  her  arches  bend; 

Nor  of  a  theme  less  solemn  tells 
That  mighty  surge  that  ebbs  and  swells, 

And  still  between  each  awful  pause, 

From  the  high  vault  an  answer  draws, 


366 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


In  varied  tone,  prolonged  and  high, 

That  mocks  the  organ’s  melody; 

Nor  doth  its  entrance  front  in  vain 
To  old  Iona’s  holy  fane, 

That  Nature’s  voice  might  seem  to  say, 
Well  hast  thou  done,  frail  child  of  clay! 

Thy  humble  powers  that  stately  shrine 
Tasked  high  and  hard — but  witness  mine!” 


PROVERBIAL  EXPRESSIONS 


No.  1.  Page  39. 

Materiem  superabat  opus. — Ovid. 

The  workmanship  surpassed  the  material. 

No.  2.  Page  39. 

Facies  non  omnibus  una, 

Nec  diversa  tamen,  qualem  decet  esse  sororum. 

— Ovid. 

Their  faces  were  not  all  alike,  nor  yet  unlike,  but  such  as  those 
of  sisters  ought  to  be. 

No.  3.  Page  42. 

Medio  tutissimus  ibis. — Ovid. 

You  will  go  most  safely  in  the  middle. 

No.  4.  Page  45. 

Hie  situs  est  Phaeton,  currus  auriga  paterni, 

Quern  si  non  tenuit,  magnis  tamen  excidit  ausis. 

— Ovid. 

Here  lies  Phaeton,  the  driver  of  his  father’s  chariot,  which  if 
he  failed  to  manage,  yet  he  fell  in  a  great  undertaking. 

No.  5.  Page  123. 

Imponere  Pelio  Ossam. — Virgil. 

To  pile  Ossa  upon  Pelion. 

No.  6.  Page  230. 

Timeo  Danaos  et  dona  ferentes. — Virgil. 

I  fear  the  Greeks  even  when  they  offer  gifts. 

No.  7.  Page  232. 

Non  tali  auxilio  nec  defensoribus  istis 
Tempus  eget. — Virgil. 

Not  such  aid  nor  such  defenders  does  the  time  require. 

No.  8.  Page  245. 

Incidit  in  Scyllam,  cupiens  vitare  Charybdim. 

He  runs  on  Scylla,  wishing  to  avoid  Charybdis. 

367 


368 


PROVERBIAL  EXPRESSIONS 


No.  9.  Page  260. 

Monstrum  horrendum,  in  forme,  ingens,  cui  lumen  ademptum. 

— Virgil. 

A  horrible  monster,  misshapen,  vast,  whose  only  eye  has  been 
put  out. 

No.  10.  Page  261. 

Tantsene  animis  coelestibus  irae? — Virgil. 

In  heavenly  minds  can  such  resentments  dwell? 


No.  11.  Page  263. 

Haud  ignara  mali,  miseris  succurrere  disco. — Virgil. 

Not  unacquainted  with  distress,  I  have  learned  to  succor  the 
unfortunate. 


No..  12.  Page  263. 

Tros,  Tyriusve  mihi  n-ullo  discrimine  agetur. — Virgil. 
Whether  Trojan  or  Tyrian  shall  make  no  difference  to  me. 


No.  13.  Page  265. 

Tu  ne  cede  malis,  sed  contra  audentior  ito. — Virgil. 

Yield  thou  not  to  adversity,  but  press  on  the  more  bravely. 

No.  14.  Page  265. 

Facilis  descensus  Averni ; 

Noctes  atque  dies  patet  atri  janua  Ditis; 

Sed  revocare  gradum,  superasque  evadere  ad  auras, 

Hoc  opus,  hie  labor  est. — Virgil. 

The  descent  of  Avernus  is  easy;  the  gate  of  Pluto  stands  open 
night  and  day;  but  to  retrace  one’s  steps  and  return  to  the  upper 
air — that  is  the  toil,  that  the  difficulty. 

No.  15.  Page  265. 

Uno  avulso  non  deficit  alter. — Virgil. 

When  one  is  tom  away  another  succeeds. 

No.  16.  Page  282. 

Quadrupendante  putrum  sonitu  quatit  ungula  campum. — Virgil, 
Then  struck  the  hoofs  of  the  steeds  on  the  ground  with  a  four- 
footed  trampling. 

No.  17.  Page  285. 

Sternitur  infelix  alieno  vulnere,  ccelumque 

Adspicit  et  moriens  dulces  reminiscitur  Argos. — Virgil. 

He  falls,  unhappy,  by  a  wound  intended  for  another;  looks  up 
to  the  skies,  and  dying  remembers  sweet  Argos. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIVE  PASSAGES 


QUOTED  FROM  THE  POETS 

PAGE 

Addison  (attributed  to) .  304 

Armstrong  . . 22,  117,  175 

Browning,  Mrs.  E.  B . . . . .  168 

Bulfinch,  Rev.  S.  G . 45,  63,  149 

Byron . . . . 7,  18,  19,  20,  38,  75,  94,  106,  114,  143,  175,  198, 

203,  207,  231,  235,  236,  246,  292,  300,  305, 
307,  319 


Campbell  . 

,137, 

364 

Coleridge  . 

58 

Cowper  . 

. 4, 

104, 

192, 

221, 

300, 

304, 

308 

Darwin  . 

.158, 

209 

Dryden . 

,.48, 

211, 

290, 

308, 

312 

Dyer  . 

.133, 

233 

Fletcher  . 

205 

Francklin . 

184 

Garrick  . 

111 

Goldsmith  . 

104 

Gray  . 

...8, 

344, 

350 

Harvey . 

90 

Hemans  . 

362 

Homer . 

...3, 

246, 

252, 

253, 

255, 

304 

Hood  . 

..57, 

105 

Keats  . 

. 31,  62, 

65,  68,  76 

,  91, 

106, 

204, 

243 

Landor  . 

46 

Longfellow  . 

.161, 

206, 

291, 

336 

Lowell  . . 

,.33, 

172, 

181, 

273, 

292 

369 


370  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIVE  PASSAGES 


PAGE 

Lucan  . - .  313 

Macaulay  . . 11,  159 

Mickle  . .  25 

Milman  . 45,  122 

Milton  . 3,  5,  6,  18,  33,  34,  38,  57,  67,  68,  75,  90,  94,  103, 

104,  117,  120,  126,  128,  129,  146,  148,  165,  167, 

168,  174,  176,  179,  181,  192,  194,  233,  235,  245, 

274,  291,  296,  299,  302,  312,  328 

Moore . .2,  25,  28,  58,  91,  105,  115,  134,  143,  293,  320,  364 

Nibelungen  Lied  .  353 

Ovid  .  310 

Pope  . . 15,  133,  188,  221,  227,  287,  304 

Schiller  . 63,  149 

Scott  . 264,  359,  365 

Shakspeare  . 5,  127,  137,  290,  291 

Shelley  . . . 23,  36,  150,  314 

Southey  .  188 

Spenser . 8,  110,  166,  198 

Swift  . 51,  231 

Tennyson  . Ill,  150,  175,  207,  214,  237,  257,  300 

Thomson  . . . . 80,  305 

Tickell  . . 304 

Waller  . 22,  262 

Wordsworth  •  •  •  •  •  •  •••••••  167,  215,  302,  319 

Young . . .126,  176,  205,  275,  318 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


A 

Ab-syr'tus,  younger  brother  of  Me¬ 
dea,  137. 

A-by'dos,  a  town  on  the  Helles¬ 
pont,  nearly  opposite  to  Sestos, 
105. 

Ab'y-la,  Mount,  or  Columna,  a 
mountain  in  Morocco,  near  Ceu¬ 
ta,  now  called  Jebel  Musa  or 
Ape’s  Hill,  forming  the  North¬ 
western  extremity  of  the  Afri¬ 
can  coast  opposite  Gibraltar  ( See 
Pillars  of  Hercules),  145. 

A-ces'tes,  son  of  a  Trojan  woman 
who  was  sent  by  her  father  to 
Sicily,  that  she  might  not  be  de¬ 
voured  by  the  monsters  which 
infested  the  territory  of  Troy, 
162,  164,  264;  city  of,  283. 

A-ce'tes,  Bacchanal,  captured  by 
Pentheus,  164. 

A-cha'tes,  faithful  friend  and  com¬ 
panion  of  ZEneas,  281. 

Ach-e-lo'us,  river-god  of  the  largest 
river  in  Greece — his  Horn  of 
Plenty,  177-179. 

A-chilTes,  the  hero  of  the  Iliad, 
son  of  Peleus  and  of  the  Ne¬ 
reid  Thetis,  slain  by  Paris,  95, 
138,  173,  174,  208,  212,  213,  214, 
216-228,  232,  233. 

A'cis,  youth  loved  by  Galatea  and 
slain  by  Polyphemus,  209-211. 

A-con'ti-us,  a  beautiful  youth,  who 
fell  in  love  with  Cydippe,  the 
daughter  of  a  noble  Athenian, 
121. 

A-cris'i-us,  son  of  Abas,  king  of 
Argos,  grandson  of  Lynceus,  the 
great-grandson  of  Danaiis,  116, 
202. 


Ac-tse'on,  a  celebrated  huntsman, 
son  of  Aristaeus  and  Autonoe, 
who,  having  seen  Diana  bathing, 
was  changed  by  her  to  a  stag  and 
killed  by  his  own  dogs,  34,  36, 

94. 

Ad-me'ta,  daughter  of  Eurystheus, 
covets  Hippolyta’s  girdle,  144. 

Ad-me'tus,  king  of  Thessaly,  saved 
from  death  by  Alcestis,  180,  181. 

A-do'nis,  a  youth  beloved  by 
Aphrodite  (Venus),  and  Proser¬ 
pine;  killed  by  a  boar,  65-67. 

A-dras'tus,  a  king  of  Argos,  182. 

ZE'a-cus,  son  of  Zeus  (Jupiter) 
and  ZEgina,  renowned  in  all 
Greece  for  his  justice  and  piety, 

95. 

ZE-ae'a,  Circe’s  island,  visited  by 
Ulysses,  241. 

.TE-e'tes,  or  ZEeta,  son  of  Helios 
(the  Sun)  and  Perseis,  and 
father  of  Medea  and  Absyrtus, 
130,  131,  132,  137. 

-3C-ge'an  Sea,  38,  73,  133. 

ZE-ge'us,  king  of  Athens,  136,  150, 
151. 

ZE-gi'na,  a  rocky  island  in  the  mid¬ 
dle  of  the  Saronic  gulf,  95. 

.TE'gis,  shield  or  breastplate  of  Jupi¬ 
ter  and  Minerva,  5,  109,  116. 

ZE-gis'thus,  murderer  of  Agamem¬ 
non,  slain  by  Orestes,  234. 

.TE-ne'as,  Trojan  hero,  son  of  An- 
chises  and  Aphrodite  (Venus), 
and  born  on  Mount  Ida,  reputed 
first  settler  of  Rome,  61,  213, 
221,  222,  223,  258-287. 

^E-ne'id,  poem  by  Virgil,  relating 
the  wanderings  of  ZEneas  from 
Troy  to  Italy,  307. 


371 


372 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


ZE'o-lus,  son  of  Hellen  and  the 
nymph  Orseis,  represented  in 
Homer  as  the  happy  ruler  of  the 
Hiolian  Islands,  to  whom  Zeus 
had  given  dominion  over  the 
winds,  69,  75,  240,  261,  301. 

ZEs'cu-la'pi-us,  god  of  the  medical 
art,  127,  154,  174,  179,  180,  218, 
298. 

ZE'son,  father  of  Jason,  made  young 
again  by  Medea,  130,  134-136. 

.TE-thi-o'pi-ans,  inhabitants  of  the 
country  south  off  Egypt,  2,  118, 
207,  208. 

ZE'thra,  mother  of  Theseus  by 
.TEgeus,  150,  151. 

.TEt'na,  volcano  in  Sicily,  43,  52, 
122,  180,  210. 

Ag'a-me'des,  brother  of  Trophonius, 
distinguished  as  an  architect,  297, 
298. 

Ag'a-mem'non,  son  of  Plisthenis 
and  grandson  of  Atreus,  king  of 
Mycenae;  although  the  chief  com¬ 
mander  of  the  Greeks,  is  not  the 
hero  of  the  Iliad,  and  in  chival¬ 
rous  spirit  altogether  inferior  to 
Achilles,  213,  216,  217,  219,  222, 
233. 

A-ga've,  daughter  of  Cadmus,  wife 
of  Echion,  and  mother  of  Pen- 
theus,  164. 

A-ge'nor,  father  of  Europa,  Cad¬ 
mus,  Cilix,  and  Phoenix,  91,  223. 

Ag-la'i-a,  one  of  the  Graces,  8. 

Ag'ni,  Hindu  god  of  fire,  321. 

Ah'ri-man,  the  Evil  Spirit  in  the 
dual  system  of  Zoroaster,  318. 
See  Ormuzd. 

A'jax,  son  of  Tdamon,  king  of 
Salamis,  and  grandson  of  dEacus; 
represented  in  the  Iliad  as  second 
only  td  Achilles  in  bravery,  138, 
213,  217,  219,  221,  228. 

Al'ba  Lon'ga,  city  in  Italy  founded 
by  son  of  dEneas-,  287. 

Al'ber-ich,  dwarf  guardian  of  Rhine- 
gold  treasure  of  the  Nibelungs, 
354,  355,  356. 

Al-ces'tis,  wife  of  Admetus,  offered 
herself  as  sacrifice  to  spare  her 


husband,  but  rescued  by  Her¬ 
cules,  180,  181. 

Al-ci'des  (Hercules),  148,  149. 

Al-cin'o-us,  Phaeacian  king,  248, 
250,  252. 

Al-cip'pe,  daughter  of  Mars;  carried 
off  by  Halirrhothius,  139. 

Alc-me'na,  wife  of  Jupiter,  and 
mother  of  Hercules,  143. 

Al-dro-van'dus,  dwarf  guardian  of 
treasure,  354,  355,  356. 

A-lec'to,  one  of  the  Furies,  9,  277. 

Al-ex-an'der  the  Great,  king  of 
Macedonia,  conqueror  of  Greece, 
Egypt,  Persia,  Babylonia,  and 
India,  48. 

Al-fa'dur,  a  name  for  Odin,  331, 
349. 

Alf'heim,  abode  of  the  elves  of 
light,  348. 

Al-phe'nor,  son  of  Niobe,  113. 

Al-phe'us,  river-god  pursuing  Are- 
thusa,  who  escaped  by  being 
changed  to  a  fountain,  56,  57, 
144. 

Al-thae'a,  mother  of  Meleager,  whom 
she  slew  because  he  had  in  a 
quarrel  killed  her  brothers,  thus 
disgracing  “the  house  of  Thes- 
tius,”  her  father,  138-140. 

Am-al-the'a,  nurse  of  the  infant 
Jupiter  in  Crete,  179. 

A-ma'ta,  wife  of  Latinus,  driven 
mad  by  Alecto,  277. 

Am'a-zons,  mythical  race  of  warlike 
women,  144-145,  153. 

Am-bro'si-a,  celestial  food  used  by 
the  gods,  3. 

Am'mon,  Egyptian  god  of  life,  iden¬ 
tified  by  Romans  with  phases  of 
Jupiter,  the  father  of  gods,  123. 

Am-phi-a-ra'us,  a  great  prophet  and 
hero  at  Argos,  182. 

Am-phi'on,  a  musician,  son  of  Jupi¬ 
ter  and  Antiope  ( See  Dirce), 
113,  192-193. 

Am-phi-tri'te,  wife  of  Neptune,  172, 
173. 

Am-phyr'sos,  a  small  river  in  Thes¬ 
saly,  180. 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


373 


Am'pyx,  assailant  of  Perseus,  turned 
to  stone  by  seeing  Gorgon’s  head, 
121. 

Am-ri'ta,  nectar  giving  immortality, 
321. 

A'mun,  292.  See  Ammon. 

Am'y-mo'ne,  one  of  the  fifty  daugh¬ 
ters  of  Danaus,  and  mother  by 
Poseidon  (Neptune)  of  Nauplius, 
the  father  of  Palamedes,  144. 

An'ax-ar'e-te,  a  maiden  of  Cyprus, 
who  treated  her  lover  Iphis  with 
such  haughtiness  that  he  hanged 
himself  at  her  door,  78,  79. 

An-ce'us,  one  of  the  Argonauts,  137. 

An-chi'ses,  beloved  by  Aphrodite 
(Venus),  by  whom  he  became  the 
father  of  .TEneas,  258,  259,  265, 
271,  272. 

An-drae'mon,  husband  of  Dry  ope; 
saw  her  changed  into  a  tree,  64, 
65. 

An-drom'a-che,  wife  of  Hector,  213, 
225,  260. 

An-drom'e-da,  daughter  of  King 
Cephas,  delivered  from  monster  • 
by  Perseus,  118-120. 

A-nem'o-ne,  short-lived  wind-flower, 
created  by  Venus  from  the  blood 
of  the  slain  Adonis,  67. 

An-ger'bo-de,  giant  prophetess, 
mother  of  Fenris,  Hela,  and  the 
Midgard  Serpent,  344. 

An'gle-sey,  a  Northern  British 
island,  refuge  of  Druids  fleeing 
from  Romans,  362. 

An-tse'us,  giant  wrestler  of  Libya, 
killed  by  Hercules,  who,  finding 
him  stronger  when  thrown  to  the 
earth,  lifted  him  into  the  air  and 
strangled  him,  122,  146. 

An-te'a,  wife  of  jealous  Proetus,  125. 

An'te-ros,  deity  avenging  unrequited 
love,  brother  of  Eros  (Cupid),  7. 

An'thor,  a  Greek,  285. 

An-tig'o-ne,  daughter  of  /Edipus, 
Greek  ideal  of  filial  and  sisterly 
fidelity,  181-184. 

An-til'o-chus,  son  of  Nestor,  207, 

221. 


An-ti'o-pe,  Amazonian  queen,  153, 
192,  194.  See  Dirce. 

A-nu'bus,  Egyptian  god,  conductor 
of  the  dead  to  judgment,  293, 
294. 

Ap'en-nines,  43. 

Aph-ro-di'te.  See  Venus,  Dione,  etc. 

A'pis,  Egyptian  bull-god  of  Mem¬ 
phis,  295,  299. 

A-pol'lo,  god  of  music  and  song,  3, 
5,  8,  13,  19,  20-23,  38,  47,  67-68, 

104,  112,  113,  123,  127,  173,  174, 

179,  180,  185,  196,  199,  206,  216, 

218,  220,  222,  223,  224,  225,  228, 

232,  252,  259,  274,  301. 

A-pol'lo  Bel-ve-dere',  famous  antique 
statue  in  Vatican  at  Rome,  306. 

A-pol'lo,  Oracle  of,  69,  81,  92,  259, 
297. 

A-pol'lo,  temple  to,  157,  228,  314. 

Apples  of  the  Hesperides,  wedding 
gifts  to  Juno,  guarded  by  daugh¬ 
ters  of  Atlas  and  Hesperis,  stolen 
by  Atlas  for  Hercules,  145. 

Aq'ui-lo,  or  Boreas,  the  North 
Wind,  176. 

A-rach'ne,  a  maiden  skilled  in 
weaving,  changed  to  a  spider  by 
Minerva  for  daring  to  compete 
with  her,  108-111. 

Ar-ca'di-a,  a  country  in  the  middle 
of  Peloponnesus,  surrounded  on 
all  sides  by  mountains,  9,  34,  138, 
280. 

Ar'ca-dy,  star  of,  the  Pole-star,  33. 

Ar'cas,  son  of  Jupiter  and  Callisto, 
34. 

Archer,  constellation  of  the,  40. 

A-re-op'a-gus,  court  of  the,  at  Ath¬ 
ens,  235. 

A'res,  called  Mars  by  the  Romans, 
the  Greek  god  of  war,  and  one  of 
the  great  Olympian  gods,  7. 

Ar-e-thu'sa,  nymph  of  Diana, 
changed  to  a  fountain,  55-56,  58. 

Ar'go,  builder  of  the  vessel  of  Ja¬ 
son  for  the  Argonautic  expedi¬ 
tion,  130,  132,  133. 

Ar'go-lis,  city  of  the  Nemeaif 
games,  155. 


374 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


Argonauts,  Jason’s  crew  seeking 
the  Golden  Fleece,  130,  131,  137, 
144,  158,  176. 

Ar'gos,  a  kingdom  in  Greece,  182, 
234,  285,  289,  307. 

Ar'gus,  of  the  hundred  eyes,  guard¬ 
ian  of  Io,  29-31,  130,  133,  255, 
302. 

A-ri-ad'ne,  daughter  of  King  Minos, 
who  helped  Theseus  slay  the 
Minotaur,  152,  156,  165. 

A-rim'a-nes.  See  Ahriman. 

Ar'i-mas'pi-ans,  one-eyed  people  of 
Syria,  129. 

A-ri'on,  famous  musician,  whom 
sailors  cast  into  the  sea  to  rob 
him,  but  whose  lyric  song  charmed 
the  dolphins,  one  of  which  bore 
him  safely  to  land,  195-198. 

Ar-is-tae'us,  the  bee-keeper,  in  love 
with  Eurydice,  185,  189-191. 

Ar'te-mis.  See  Diana. 

A'runs,  an  Etruscan  who  killed  Ca¬ 
milla,  286. 

As'gard,  home  of  the  Northern 
gods,  330,  345. 

A'sia,  152,  161. 

As'ke,  the  first  man,  made  from  an 
ash-tree,  329. 

As-trae'a,  goddess  of  justice,  daugh¬ 
ter  of  Astraeus  and  Eos,  15. 

As-ty'a-ges,  an  assailant  of  Perseus, 

121. 

A-su'ras,  opponents  of  the  Bramin- 
ical  gods,  321. 

At-a-lan'ta,  beautiful  daughter  of 
King  of  Icaria,  loved  and  won  in 
a  foot-race  by  Hippomenes,  138- 
140,  141-142. 

A'te,  the  goddess  of  infatuation, 
mischief  and  guilt,  222. 

Ath'a-mas,  son  of  iEolus  and  Ena- 
rete,  and  king  of  Orchomenus,  in 
Boeotia,  129,  130,  174.  See  Ino. 

A-the'ne,  tutelary  goddess  of  Ath¬ 
ens;  the  same  as  Minerva,  152. 

Ath'ens,  the  capital  of  Attica,  about 
four  miles  from  the  sea,  between 
the  small  rivers  Cephissus  and 
Ilissus,  95,  107,  136,  137,  150, 
151,  153,  154,  235,  307. 


A'thor,  Egyptian  deity,  progenitor 
of  Isis  and  Osiris,  292. 

A'thos,  the  mountainous  peninsula, 
also  called  Acte,  which  projects 
from  Chalcidice  in  Macedonia,  43. 

At-lan'tis,  according  to  an  ancient 
tradition,  a  great  island  west  of 
the  Pillars  of  Hercules,  in  the 
ocean,  opposite  Mount  Atlas, 
273. 

At'las,  a  Titan,  who  bore  the  heav¬ 
ens  on  his  shoulders,  as  punish¬ 
ment  for  opposing  the  gods;  one 
ctf  the  sons  of  Iapetus,  5,  44,  117- 
118,  146,  149,  206. 

At'las,  Mount,  general  name  for 
range  in  northern  Africa,  145. 

At'ro-pos,  one  of  the  Fates  (which 
See),  9. 

At'ti-ca,  a  state  in  ancient  Greece, 
153,  154,  158. 

Aud-hum'bla,  the  cow  from  which 
the  giant  Ymir  was  nursed.  Her 
milk  was  frost  melted  into  rain¬ 
drops,  329. 

Au-ge'an  stables,  cleansed  by  Her¬ 
cules,  144. 

Au-ge'as,  king  of  Elis,  144. 

Au-gus'tan  age,  reign  of  Roman 
Emperor  Augustus  Caesar,  famed 
for  many  great  authors,  308. 

Au-gus'tus,  the  first  imperial  Caesar, 
who  ruled  the  Roman  Empire 
31  B.c. — 14  a.d.,  11,  308. 

Au'lis,  port  in  Boeotia,  meeting- 
place  of  Greek  expedition  against 
Troy,  213. 

Au-ro'ra,  identical  with  Eos,  god¬ 
dess  of  the  dawn,  23,  26,  53,  72, 
207-208. 

Au-ro'ra  Bo-re-a'lis,  splendid  noc¬ 
turnal  luminosity  in  northern  sky, 
called  Northern  Lights,  probably 
electrical,  331. 

Au'tumn,  attendant  of  Phoebus,  the 
Sun,  39. 

Av'a-tar,  name  for  any  of  the 
earthly  incarnations  of  Vishnu, 
the  Preserver  (Hindu  god),  321. 

Av'en-tine,  Mount,  one  of  the 
Seven  Hills  of  Rome,  146. 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


375 


A-ver'nus,  a  miasmatic  lake  close  to 
the  promontory  between  Cumae 
and  Puteoli,  filling  the  crater  of 
an  extinct  volcano,  by  the  an¬ 
cients  thought  to  be  the  entrance 
to  the  infernal  regions,  265, 
266. 

Av-i-cen'na,  celebrated  Arabian 
physician  and  philosopher,  313. 

B 

Ba'al,  king  of  Tyre,  358. 

Bab-y-lo'ni-an  River,  dried  up  when 
Phaeton  drove  the  sun-chariot, 

44. 

Bac'cha-na'li-a,  a  feast  to  Bacchus 
that  was  permitted  to  occur  but 
once  in  three  years;  attended  by 
most  shameless  orgies,  161. 

Bac'cha-nals,  devotees  and  festal 
dancers  of  Bacchus,  161,  164. 

Bac'chus  (Dionysus),  god  of  wine 
and  revelry,  8,  10,  46-47,  123, 
160-165,  179,  187. 

Bal'dur,  son  of  Odin,  and  repre¬ 
senting  in  Norse  mythology  the 
sun-god,  343-347. 

Bards,  minstrels  of  Welsh  Druids, 
361. 

Bas'i-lisk.  See  Cockatrice. 

Bau'cis,  wife  of  Philemon,  visited 
by  Jupiter  and  Mercury,  49-51. 

Be'al,  Druids'  god  of  life,  358. 

Bear  (Constellation  of),  3. 

Bel-ler'o-phon,  demigod,  conqueror 
of  the  Chimjera,  125-126. 

Bel-lo'na,  the  Roman  goddess  of 
war,  represented  as  the  sister  or 
wife  of  Mars,  10. 

Bel'tane,  Druidical  fire-festival,  359. 

Be'lus,  son  of  Poseidon  (Neptune) 
and  Libya  or  Eurynome,  twin- 
brother  of  Agenor,  262. 

Ber'o-e,  nurse  of  Semele,  160. 

Bi'frost,  rainbow  bridge  between 
the  earth  and  Asgard  (which 
See),  330,  349. 

Boe-o'ti-a,  state  in  ancient  Greece, 
capital  city  Thebes,  213,  297. 


Bo'na  De'a,  a  Roman  divinity  of 
fertility,  10  n. 

Bo-o'tes,  also  called  Areas,  son  of 
Jupiter  and  Calisto,  changed  to 
constellation  of  Ursa  Major,  42. 

Bo're-as,  North  wind,  son  of  vEolus 
and  Aurora,  176,  261. 

Bos'po-rus  (Bosphorus),  the  Cow- 
ford,  named  for  Io  (which  See), 
when  as  a  heifer  she  crossed  that 
strait,  31. 

Brag'i,  Norse  god  of  poetry,  332. 

Brah'ma,  the  Creator,  chief  god  of 
Hindu  religion,  320-325. 

Brazen  Age,  14. 

Bri-a're-us,  hundred-armed  giant, 
52,  123,  267. 

Bri-se'is,  captive  maid  belonging  to 
Achilles,  216. 

Brun'hild,  leader  of  the  Valkyrie, 
352,  354-357. 

Bud'dha,  called  The  Enlightened, 
reformer  of  Brahmanism,  deified 
teacher  of  self-abnegation,  virtue, 
reincarnation,  Karma  (inevitable 
sequence  of  every  act),  and  Nir¬ 
vana  (beatific  absorption  into  the 
Divine),  lived  about  562-482  B.C., 
321,  325-326. 

Bull,  constellation,  40. 

Byb'los,  in  Egypt,  294. 

Byr'sa,  original  site  of  Carthage, 
262. 

C 

Ca'cus,  gigantic  son  of  Vulcan, 
slain  by  Hercules,  whose  captured 
cattle  he  stole,  146,  147. 

Cad'mus,  son  of  Agenor,  king  of 
Phoenicia,  and  of  Telephassa, 
and  brother  of  Europa,  who,  seek¬ 
ing  his  sister,  carried  off  by  Jupi¬ 
ter,  had  strange  adventures — sow¬ 
ing  in  the  ground  teeth  of  a 
dragon  he  had  killed,  which 
sprang  up  armed  men  who  slew 
each  other,  all  but  five,  who 
helped  Cadmus  to  found  the  city 
of  Thebes,  34,  91-94,  131,  174, 
182,  301. 


376 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


Ca-du'ce*us,  Mercury’s  staff,  8,  49. 

Ca-i'cus,  a  Greek  river,  44* 

Cairns,  Druidical  stone-piles,  359, 
365. 

Cal'ais,  French  town  facing  Eng¬ 
land,  133,  176. 

Cal'chas,  wisest  soothsayer  among 
the  Greeks  at  Troy,  214,  217, 
230. 

Cal-li'o-pe,  one  of  the  nine  Muses 
(which  See),  8,  185. 

Cal-lis'to,  an  Arcadian  nymph, 
mother  of  Areas  ( See  Bootes), 
changed  by  Jupiter  to  constella¬ 
tion  Ursa  Minor,  31-34. 

Cal'pe,  a  mountain  in  the  south 
of  Spain,  on  the  strait  between 
the  Atlantic  and  Mediterranean, 
now  Rock  of  Gibraltar,  145. 

Cal'y-don,  home  of  Meleager,  138, 
140. 

Ca-lyp'so,  queen  of  Island  of  Ogyg- 
ia,  where  Ulysses  was  wrecked 
and  held  seven  years,  245-247. 

Ca-lyp'so  Island,  245. 

Ca-me'nae,  prophetic  nymphs,  be¬ 
longing  to  the  religion  of  ancient 
Italy,  175. 

Ca-mil'la,  Volscian  maiden,  huntress 
and  Amazonian  warrior,  favorite 
of  Diana,  278,  286,  287. 

Cap'a-neus,  husband  of  Evadne, 
slain  by  Jupiter  for  disobedience, 
183. 

Car'thage,  African  city,  home  of 
Dido  (which  See),  262. 

Cas-san'dra,  daughter  of  Priam  and 
Hecuba,  and  twin-sister  of  Hele- 
nus,  a  prophetess,  who  foretold 
the  coming  of  the  Greeks  but  was 
not  believed,  232. 

Cas-si-o-pe'ia,  mother  of  Androm¬ 
eda,  118,  120. 

Cas-ta'li-a,  fountain  of  Parnassus, 
giving  inspiration  to  Oracular 
priestess  named  Pyfhia,  297. 

Cas-ta'lian  Cave,  oracle  of  Apollo, 
92. 

Castes  (India),  323-325. 

Cas'tor  and  Pol'lux — the  Dioscu¬ 
ri,  sons  of  Jupiter  and  Leda, — 


Castor  a  horseman,  Pollux  a 
boxer  ( See  Gemini),  133,  158-159, 
202,  203. 

Cau'ca-sus  Mount,  18,  43,  170. 

Ca-ys'ter,  ancient  river,  44. 

Ce-bri'o-nes,  Hector’s  charioteer, 

220. 

Ce'crops,  first  king  of  Athens,  107. 

Ce-les'tials,  gods  of  classic  mythol¬ 
ogy,  3. 

Ce'le-U6,  shepherd  who  sheltered 
Ceres,  seeking  Proserpine,  and 
whose  infant  son  Triptolemus  was 
in  gratitude  made  great  by  Ce¬ 
res,  54,  57. 

Cel-li'ni,  Benvenuto,  famous  Ital¬ 
ian  sculptor  and  artificer  in 
metals,  316. 

Cen'taurs,  originally  an  ancient 
race,  inhabiting  Mount  Pelion  in 
Thessaly;  in  later  accounts  rep¬ 
resented  as  half  horses  and  half 
men,  and  said  to  have  been  the 
offspring  of  Ixion  and  a  cloud, 
127-128,  166. 

Ceph'a-lus,  husband  of  beautiful 
but  jealous  Procris,  26-28,  95. 

Ce'phe-us,  King  of  Ethiopians, 
father  of  Andromeda,  118,  120. 

Ceph'i-sus,  a  Grecian  stream,  92. 

Cer'be-rus,  three-headed  dog  that 
guarded  the  entrance  to  Hades; 
called  a  son  of  Typhaon  and 
Echidna,  88,  147,  196,  268. 

Ce'res  ( See  Demeter),  8,  53,  54- 
57,  86,  169. 

Ces'tus,  the  girdle  of  Venus,  6,  218. 

Cey-lon',  326. 

Ce'yx,  King  of  Thessaly  (See  Hal- 
cyone),  69-75. 

Cha'os,  original  Confusion,  personi¬ 
fied  by  Greeks  as  most  ancient  of 
the  gods,  4,  12,  45. 

Cha'ron,  son  of  Erebos,  conveyed 
in  his  boat  the  shades  of  the 
dead  across  the  rivers  of  the 
lower  world,  88,  267. 

Cha-ryb'dis,  whirlpool  near  the 
coast  of  Sicily,  243-245,  261,  303, 
304,  322.  See  Scylla. 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


377 


Chi-mae'ra,  a  fire-breathing  monster, 
the  fore  part  of  whose  body  was 
that  of  a  lion,  the  hind  part 
that  of  a  dragon,  and  the  middle 
that  of  a  goat,  slain  by  Belle- 
rophon,  122,  124-126,  267. 

Chi'na,  326;  Lamas  (priests)  of,  327. 

Chi'os,  island  in  the  Grecian  archi¬ 
pelago,  205. 

Chi'ron,  wisest  of  all  the  Centaurs, 
son  of  Cronos  (Saturn)  and 
Philyra,  lived  on  Mount  Pelion, 
instructor  of  Grecian  heroes,  127, 
128,  133,  173. 

Chry-se'is,  Trojan  maid,  taken  by 
Agamemnon,  216. 

Chry'ses,  priest  of  Apollo,  father 
of  Chryseis,  216. 

Ci-co'ni-ans,  inhabitants  of  Isma- 
rus,  visited  by  Ulysses,  236. 

Cim-me'ri-a,  a  land  of  darkness, 
31,  71. 

Ci'mon,  Athenian  general,  154. 

Cir'ce,  sorceress,  sister  of  Tietes, 
60,  61,  117,  241-243. 

Ci-thse'ron,  Mount,  scene  of  Bacchic 
worship,  164,  192. 

Cli'o,  one  of  the  Muses  (which 
See),  8. 

Clo'tho,  one  of  the  Fates  (which 
See),  9. 

Clym'e-ne,  an  ocean  nymph,  38-39. 

Cly-tem-nes'tra,  wife  of  Agamem¬ 
non,  killed  by  Orestes,  234. 

Cly'tie,  a  water-nymph,  in  love  with 
Apollo,  104-105. 

Cni'dos,  ancient  city  of  Asia  Minor, 
seat  of  worship  of  Aphrodite 
(Venus),  66. 

Cock'a-trice  (or  Basilisk),  called 
King  of  Serpents,  supposed  to 
kill  with  its  look,  312-314. 

Co-cy'tus,  a  river  of  Hades,  267. 

Col'chis,  a  kingdom  east  of  the 
Black  Sea,  130,  131,  137. 

Col'o-phon,  one  of  the  seven  cities 
claiming  the  birth  of  Homer,  307. 

Co-lum'ba,  St.,  an  Irish  Christian 
missionary  to  Druidical  parts  of 
Scotland,  362-363. 


Cor'inth,  city  and  isthmus  of,  136, 
151,  155,  195,  197,  199. 

Cor-nu-co'pi-a  of  Achelous,  179. 

Cor-y-ban'tes,  priests  of  Cybele,  or 
Rhea,  in  Phrygia,  who  celebrated 
her  worship  with  dances,  to  the 
sound  of  the  drum  and  the  cym¬ 
bal,  143. 

Crab,  constellation,  41. 

Cranes  and  their  enemies,  the  Pyg¬ 
mies,  128;  of  Ibycus,  198-201. 

Cre'on,  king  of  Thebes,  183. 

Crete,  one  of  the  largest  islands  of 
the  Mediterranean  Sea,  lying 
south  of  the  Cyclades,  95,  100, 
109,  152,  259. 

Cre-u'sa,  daughter  of  Priam,  wife 
of  JEneas,  136. 

Croc'a-le,  a  nymph  of  Diana,  34. 

CromTech,  Druidical  altar,  359. 

Cro'nos,  9,  301.  See  Saturn. 

Cro-to'na,  city  of  Italy,  288,  292. 

Cul-dees',  followers  of  St.  Columba, 
363-364. 

Cu-mss'an  Sibyl,  seeress  of  Cumse, 
consulted  by  .Tineas,  sold  Sibyl¬ 
line  books  to  Tarquin,  275. 

Cu'pid,  child  of  Venus  and  god  of 
love,  7,  20,  53,  65,  80-90,  193. 

Cy'a-ne,  river,  opposed  Pluto’s  pas¬ 
sage  to  Hades,  53,  54,  55. 

Cyb'e-le  (Rhea,  which  See),  11,  142. 

Cy-clo'pes,  creatures  with  circular 
eyes,  of  whom  Homer  speaks  as 
a  gigantic  and  lawless  race  of 
shepherds  in  Sicily,  who  de¬ 
voured  human  beings;  they  helped 
Vulcan  to  forge  the  thunderbolts 
of  Zeus  under  ./Etna,  122,  123, 
180,  205,  209,  210,  237-240,  247, 
260. 

Cy'no-sure  (Dog’s  tail),  the  Pole- 
star,  at  tail  of  Constellation  Ursa 
Minor,  33. 

Cyn'thi-an  mountain  top,  birthplace 
of  Artemis  (Diana)  and  Apollo, 
112. 

Cy'prus,  island  off  the  coast  of 
Syria,  sacred  to  Aphrodite,  6,  63, 
66,  78,  142,  233. 


378 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


Cy-re'ne,  a  nymph,  mother  of 

Aristsus,  189-190. 

D 

Dae'da-lus,  architect  of  the  Cretan 
Labyrinth;  inventor  of  sails,  152, 
156-157. 

Da'lai  La'ma,  chief  pontiff  of 

Thibet,  327. 

Dan'a-e,  mother  of  Perseus  by 

Jupiter,  202. 

Da-na'i-des,  the  fifty  daughters  of 
Danaus,  king  of  Argos,  who  were 
betrothed  to  the  fifty  sons  of 
ZEgyptus,  but  were  commanded 
by  their  father  to  slay  each  her 
own  husband  on  the  marriage 
night,  186. 

Dan'a-us  ( See  Danaides),  186. 

Daph'ne,  maiden  loved  by  Apollo, 
and  changed  into  a  laurel  tree, 
20-23. 

Dar-da-nelles',  ancient  Hellespont 
(which  See),  129. 

Dar'da-nus,  progenitor  of  the  Tro¬ 
jan  kings,  206,  259. 

Dawn,  3,  5,  41.  See  Aurora. 

Day,  an  attendant  on  Phoebus,  the 
Sun,  39. 

Day-star  (Hesperus),  41,  69,  71. 

Death,  181,  220,  266.  See  Hela. 

De-iph'o-bus,  son  of  Priam  and  Hec¬ 
uba,  the  bravest  brother  of  Paris, 
213,  224. 

De'ja-ni'ra,  wife  of  Hercules,  147, 
177,  179. 

De'los,  floating  island,  birthplace  of 
Apollo  and  Diana,  38,  157,  162, 
259. 

Del'phi,  shrine  of  Apollo,  famed 
for  its  oracles,  1,  123,  155,  234, 
235,  297,  298. 

Del'phos,  21. 

De-me'ter,  Greek  goddess  of  mar¬ 
riage  and  human  fertility;  identi¬ 
fied  by  Romans  with  Ceres 
(which  See),  8. 

De-mod'o-cus,  bard  of  Alcinous, 
king  of  the  Phaeacians,  202,  252. 


Deu-ca'li-on,  king  of  Thessaly,  who 
with  his  wife  Pyrrha  were  the 
only  pair  surviving  a  deluge  sent 
by  Zeus,  16-17,  301. 

Di'a,  island  of,  162. 

Di-a'na  (Artemis),  goddess  of  the 
moon  and  of  the  chase,  daughter 
of  Jupiter  and  Latona,  6,  21,  26, 
30,  34-36,  38,  53,  56,  101,  112, 
123,  127,  134  n.,  138,  139,  141, 
154,  204,  206,  214,  235,  259,  278, 
286. 

Di-a'na  of  the  Hind,  antique  sculp¬ 
ture  in  the  Louvre,  Paris,  306. 

Di-a'na,  temple  of,  314. 

Dic'tys,  a  sailor,  162,  202. 

Di'do,  queen  of  Tyre  and  Carthage, 
entertained  the  shipwrecked 
ZEneas,  262,  263,  2-68. 

Di-o-me'de,  Greek  hero  during  Tro¬ 
jan  War,  213,  219,  229,  232. 

Di-o'ne,  female  Titan,  mother  of 
Zeus,  of  Aphrodite  (Venus),  6. 

Di-o-ny'sus.  See  Bacchus. 

Di-os-cu'ri,  the  Twins  ( See  Castor 
and  Pollux),  158. 

Dir'ce,  wife  of  Lycus,  king  of 
Thebes,  who  ordered  Amphion 
and  Zethus  to  tie  Antiope  to  a 
wild  bull,  but  they,  learning  An¬ 
tiope  to  be  their  mother,  so 
treated  Dirce  herself,  192. 

Dis.  See  Pluto. 

Dis'cord,  apple  of,  212.  See  Eris. 

Dis-cor'di-a,  266.  See  Eris. 

Do-do'na,  site  of  an  oracle  of  Zeus 
(Jupiter),  296. 

Dolphin,  196. 

Dor'ce-us,  a  dog  of  Diana,  35. 

Do'ris,  wife  of  Nereus,  44,  173. 

Drag'on’s  teeth  sown  by  Cadmus, 
301. 

Dru'ids,  ancient  Celtic  priests,  358- 
362. 

Dry'-a-des  (or  Dryads),  169.  See 
Wood-nymphs. 

Dry'o-pe,  changed  to  a  lotus  plant, 
for  plucking  a  lotus — enchanted 
form  of  the  nymph  Lotis,  64-65. 

Dwarfs  in  Wagner’s  Nibelungen 
Ring,  354. 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


379 


E 

Earth  (Gaea),  4,  5,  44;  goddess  of 
the,  145,  29 7. 

Ech'o,  nymph  of  Diana,  shunned  by 
Narcissus,  faded  to  nothing  but  a 
voice,  101-103. 

Eck'Ien-lied,  the,  354. 

Ed'das,  Norse  mythological  records, 
329,  348,  351,  354. 

E-ge'ri-a,  nymph  of  the  Fountain, 

154,  175. 

Egypt,  123,  163,  233,  296. 

Eis-tedd'fod,  session  of  Welsh  bards 
and  minstrels,  361. 

E-lec'tra,  the  lost  one  of  the 
Pleiades  (which  See ) ;  aflso,  sis¬ 
ter  of  Orestes  (which  See),  206, 
234,  235. 

El-eu-sin'i-an  Mysteries,  instituted 
by  Ceres,  and  calculated  to 
awaken  feelings  of  piety  and  a 
cheerful  hope  of  better  life  in 
the  future,  57. 

E-leu'sis,  Grecian  city,  54,  57. 

El'gin  Marbles,  Greek  sculptures 
from  the  Parthenon  of  Athens, 
now  in  British  Museum,  London, 
placed  there  by  Lord  Elgin,  155. 

E'lis,  ancient  Greek  city,  55,  144, 

155. 

El'li,  old  age;  the  one  successful 
wrestler  against  Thor,  341. 

Elves,  spiritual  beings,  of  many 
powers  and  dispositions  —  some 
evil,  some  good,  348. 

El-vid'nir,  the  hall  of  Hela  (which 
See),  333. 

E-lys'i-an  Fields,  the  land  of  the 
blest,  2. 

E-lys'i-an  Plain,  whither  the  fa¬ 
vored  of  the  gods  were  taken 
without  death,  2. 

E-lys'i-um,  a  happy  land,  where 
there  is  neither  snow,  nor  cold, 
nor  rain.  Hither  favored  heroes, 
like  Menelaus,  p  a  s  9  without 
dying,  and  live  happy  under  the 
rule  of  Rhadamanthus.  In  the 
Latin  poets  Elysium  is  part  of 
the  lower  world,  and  the  resi¬ 


dence  of  the  shades  of  the 
blessed,  196,  269,  272,  273. 

Em'bla,  the  first  woman,  329. 

En-cel'a-dus,  giant  defeated  by  Ju¬ 
piter,  52,  122. 

En-dym'i-on,  a  beautiful  youth  be¬ 
loved  by  Diana,  61,  204. 

En'na,  vale  of,  home  of  Proserpine, 
53,  58. 

Epi-dau'rus,  a  town  in  Argolis,  on 
the  Saronic  gulf;  chief  seat  of 
the  worship  of  Aesculapius,  whose 
temple  was  situated  near  the 
town,  94,  95,  151,  298. 

Ep-L-me'theus,  son  of  Iapetus;  hus¬ 
band  of  Pandora;  with  his  brother 
Prometheus  took  part  in  creation 
of  man,  13,  18. 

E-pi'rus,  country  to  the  west  of 
Thessaly,  lying  along  the  Adriatic 
Sea,  260,  292. 

E-po'pe-us,  a  sailor,  162. 

Er'a-to,  one  of  the  Muses  (which 
See),  8. 

Er'e-bus,  son  of  Chaos;  region  of 
darkness,  entrance  to  Hades,  4, 
56,  88,  153,  187,  277. 

E-rid'a-nus,  river,  45. 

E-ri'nys  (pi.  E-rin'ny-es),  one  of 
the  Furies  (which  See),  9,  235. 

Er'i-phyTe,  sister  of  Polynices, 
bribed  to  decide  on  war,  in  which 
her  husband  was  slain,  182,  183. 

E'ris  (Discordia),  goddess  of  dis¬ 
cord.  At  the  wedding  of  Peleus 
and  Thetis,  Eris  being  uninvited 
threw  into  the  gathering  an  apple 
“For  the  Fairest,”  which  was 
claimed  by  Hera  (Juno),  Aphro¬ 
dite  (Venus)  and  Athena  (Mi¬ 
nerva).  Paris,  being  called  upon 
for  judgment,  awarded  it  to  Aph¬ 
rodite,  211. 

Er-i-sich'thon,  an  unbeliever,  pun¬ 
ished  by  famine,  167,  169-171, 
177. 

E'ros.  See  Cupid. 

Er'y-the'ia,  island,  145,  146. 

E'ryx,  a  mount,  haunt  of  Venus, 
53. 

E-se'pus,  river  in  Paphlagonia,  208. 


380 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


E-te'o-cles,  son  of  CEdipus  and 
Jocasta,  182,  183. 

E-trus'cans,  ancient  people  of  Italy, 
281. 

Et'zel,  king  of  the  Huns,  353. 

Eu-bo'ic  Sea,  where  Hercules  threw 
Lichas,  who  brought  him  the 
poisoned  shirt  of  Nessus,  148. 

Eu-mse'us,  swineherd  of  ./Eneas,  254, 
257. 

Eu-men'i-des,  also  called  Erinnyes, 
and  by  the  Romans  Furiae  or  Di- 
raas,  the  Avenging  Deities,  201, 
234.  See  Furies. 

Eu-phor'bus,  a  Trojan,  killed  by 
Menelaus,  289. 

Eu-phros'y-ne,  one  of  the  Graces 
(which  See),  8. 

Eu-ro'pa,  daughter  of  the  Phoeni¬ 
cian  king  Agenor,  by  Zeus  the 
mother  of  Minos,  Rhadamanthus, 
and  Sarpedon,  91,  109. 

Eu'rus,  the  East  wind,  176. 

Eu-ry'a-lus,  a  gallant  Trojan  sol¬ 
dier,  who  with  Nisus  entered  the 
Grecian  camp,  both  being  slain, 
282,  283,  284. 

Eu-ryd'i-ce,  wife  of  Orpheus,  who, 
fleeing  from  an  admirer,  was 
killed  by  a  snake  and  borne  to 
Tartarus,  where  Orpheus  sought 
her  and  was  permitted  to  bring 
her  to  earth  if  he  would  not  look 
back  at  her  following  him;  but 
he  did,  and  she  returned  to  the 
Shades,  185-188,  191,  196. 

Eu-ryl'o-chus,  a  companion  of 
Ulysses,  241. 

Eu-ryn'o-me,  female  Titan,  wife  of 
Ophion  (which  See),  4,  5. 

Eu-rys'theus,  taskmaster  of  Her¬ 
cules,  128,  143-147. 

Eu-ryt'i-on,  a  Centaur  (See  Hippo- 
damia),  127,  145. 

Eu-ter'pe,  Muse  who  presided  over 
music,  8. 

Eux'ine  Sea,  2,  130. 

E-vad'ne,  wife  of  Capaneus,  who 
flung  herself  upon  his  funeral 
pile  and  perished  with  him,  182, 
183. 


E-van'der,  Arcadian  chief,  befriend¬ 
ing  .TEneas  in  Italy,  279-281,  285. 

Eve,  5,  17,  301. 

F 

Faf'ner,  a  giant  turned  dragon, 
treasure-stealer;  by  the  Solar  The¬ 
ory  simply  the  Darkness  who 
steals  the  day,  354,  355,  356. 

Fam'ine,  170. 

Fa'solt,  a  giant,  brother  of  Fafner, 
and  killed  by  him,  354. 

“Fas'ti,”  Ovid’s,  a  mythological 
poetic  calendar,  309. 

Fates,  the  three,  described  as 
daughters  of  Night — to  indicate 
the  darkness  and  obscurity  of 
human  destiny — or  of  Zeus  and 
Themis,  that  is,  “daughters  of 
the  just  heavens;”  they  were 
Clo'tho,  who  spun  the  thread  of 
life;  Lach'e-sis,  who  held  the 
thread  and  fixed  its  length,  and 
At'ro-pos,  who  cut  it  off,  9,  56, 
67,  170,  180,  181. 

Fauns,  cheerful  sylvan  deities,  rep¬ 
resented  in  human  form,  with 
small  horns,  pointed  ears,  and 
sometimes  goat’s  tail,  10,  76. 

Fau'nus,  son  of  Picus,  grandson  of 
Saturnus,  and  father  of  Latinus, 
worshipped  as  the  protecting 
deity  of  agriculture  and  of  shep¬ 
herds,  and  also  as  a  giver  of  ora¬ 
cles,  10,  36,  166,  209,  276. 

Fa-vo'ni-us,  the  West  wind,  176. 

Fear,  266. 

Fen'ris,  a  wolf,  the  son  of  Loki 
the  Evil  Principle  of  Scandi¬ 
navia;  supposed  to  have  perso¬ 
nated  the  element  of  fire,  de¬ 
structive  except  when  chained, 
332,  333,  344,  349. 

Fen-sa'lir,  Freya’s  palace,  called 
the  Hall  of  the  Sea,  where  were 
brought  together  lovers,  hus¬ 
bands,  and  wives  who  had  been 
separated  by  death,  344. 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


381 


Fire-worshippers,  of  ancient  Persia, 
318-320.  See  Parsees. 

Flo'ra,  Roman  goddess  of  flowers 
and  spring,  10,  176. 

Floss-hil'da,  one  of  the  Rhine 
daughters  (which  See),  354. 

Fortunate  Fields,  2. 

Fortunate  Islands  ( See  Elysian 
Plain),  273. 

Fo'rum,  market-place  and  open 
square  for  public  meetings  in 
Rome,  surrounded  by  court¬ 
houses,  palaces,  temples,  etc.,  281. 

Fre'ki,  one  of  Odin’s  two  wolves, 
330. 

Frey,  or  Freyr,  god  of  the  sun, 
332,  336,  347,  348,  349. 

Frey'a,  Norse  goddess  of  music, 
spring,  and  flowers,  332,  334,  335, 
347,  351,  355. 

Frick'a,  goddess  of  marriage,  355. 

Frig'ga,  goddess  who  presided  over 
smiling  nature,  sending  sunshine, 
rain,  and  harvest,  344,  345,  347, 
351,  352. 

Froh,  one  of  the  Norse  gods,  354. 

Frost  Giants,  349. 

Fu'ries  (Erinnyes),  the  three  re¬ 
tributive  spirits  who  punished 
crime,  represented  as  snaky-haired 
old  women,  named  Alecto,  Me* 
gaera,  and  Tisiphone,  9,  186,  198, 
199,  266,  269,  270,  277. 


G 

Gse'a,  of  Ge,  called  Tellus  by  the 
Romans,  the  personification  of  the 
earth;  described  as  the  first  being 
that  sprang  from  Chaos,  and  gave 
birth  to  Uranus  (Heaven)  and 
Pontus  (Sea),  1-2. 

Gal-a-te'a,  a  Nereid  or  sea-nymph, 
173,  197. 

Gal-a-te'a,  statue  carved  and  beloved 
by  Pygmalion,  209-211. 

Ga'len,  Greek  physician  and  philo¬ 
sophical  writer,  313. 


Games,  national  athletic  contests  in 
Greece — Olympian,  at  Olympia; 
Pythian,  near  Delphi,  seat  of 
Apollo’s  oracle;  Isthmian,  on  the 
Corinthian  Isthmus;  Nemean,  at 
Nemea  in  Argolis,  155. 

Gan'ges,  river  in  India,  44. 

Gan'y-mede,  the  most  beautiful  of 
all  mortals;  carried  off  to  Olym¬ 
pus  that  he  might  fill  the  cup  of 
Zeus  and  live  among  the  immor¬ 
tal  gods,  150. 

Gau'ta-ma,  Prince,  the  Buddha 
(which  See),  325. 

Gem'i-ni  ( See  Castor),  constellation 
created  by  Jupiter  from  the  twin- 
brothers  after  death,  158. 

Gen'ghis  Khan,  Tartar  conqueror, 
327. 

Ge'ni-us,  in  Roman  belief,  the  pro¬ 
tective  Spirit  of  each  individual 
man,  11.  See  Juno, 
r'da,  wife  of  Frey,  336. 

Ge'ri,  one  of  Odin’s  two  wolves, 
330. 

Ge'ry-on,  a  three-bodied  monster, 
145. 

Gi-al'lar  Horn,  the  trumpet  that 
Heimdal  will  blow  at  the  judg¬ 
ment  day,  349. 

Gi'ants,  beings  of  monstrous  size 
and  of  fearful  countenances;  rep¬ 
resented  as  in  constant  opposition 
to  the  gods,  122-123;  in  Wagner’s 
Nibelungen  Ring,  354. 

Gi'bich-ung  race,  ancestors  of  Al- 
berich,  356,  357. 

Gi-bral'tar,  great  rock  and  town  at 
southwest  corner  of  Spain  ( See 
Pillars  of  Hercules),  145. 

Glau-cus,  a  fisherman,  loving  Scylla, 
59-61,  174,  213. 

Gleip'nir,  magical  chain  on  the  wolf 
Fenris,  333. 

Gods  of  the  ancient  myths,  12,  354. 

Golden  Age,  9,  14,  301. 

Golden  Apples,  117-118,  145-146. 

Golden  Fleece,  of  ram  used  for 
escape  of  children  of  Athamas, 
named  Helle  and  Phryxus  (which 
See);  after  sacrifice  of  ram  to 


382 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


Jupiter,  fleece  was  guarded  by 
sleepless  dragon  and  gained  by 
Jason  and  Argonauts  (which  See; 
also  Helle),  129-133,  134. 

Gor'di-an  Knot,  tying  up  in  temple 
the  wagon  of  Gordius,  he  who 
could  untie  it  being  destined  to 
be  lord  of  Asia;  it  was  cut  by 
Alexander  the  Great,  48. 

Gor'di-us,  a  countryman  who,  ar¬ 
riving  in-  Phrygia  in  a  wagon,  was 
made  king  by  the  people,  thus  in¬ 
terpreting  an  oracle,  48. 

Gor'gons,  three  monstrous  females, 
with  huge  teeth,  brazen  claws  and 
snakes  for  hair,  sight  of  whom 
turned  beholders  to  stone;  Me¬ 
dusa,  the  most  famous,  slain  by 
Perseus  (which  See),  115. 

Graces,  three  goddesses  who  en¬ 
hanced  the  enjoyments  of  life 
by  refinement  and  gentleness; 
they  were  Aglaia  (brilliance), 
Euphrosyne  (joy),  and  Thalia 
(bloom),  4,  8. 

Grae'se,  three  gray-haired  female 
watchers  for  the  Gorgons,  with 
one  movable  eye  and  one  tooth 
between  the  three,  115-116. 

Grand  La'ma,  Buddhist  pontiff  in 
Thibet,  327. 

Great  Bear,  constellation,  32-33, 
36,  42. 

Griefs,  266. 

Gry'phon  (griffin),  a  fabulous  ani¬ 
mal,  with  the  body  of  a  lion  and 
the  head  and  wings  of  an  eagle, 
dwelling  in  the  Rhipaean  moun¬ 
tains,  between  the  Hyperboreans 
and  the  one-eyed  Arimaspians  and 
guarding  the  gold  of  the  North, 
128. 

Gue'bers,  Persian  fire-worshippers, 
320. 

Gul-lin-burs'ti,  the  boar  drawing 
Frey’s  car,  347. 

Gull'topp,  Heimdall’s  horse,  347. 

Gun'ther,  Burgundian  king,  brother 
of  Kriemhild,  352,  356,  357. 

Gu'trune,  half-sister  to  Hagen,  356. 

Gy'oll,  river,  345. 


H 

Ha'des,  originally  the  god  of  the 
nether  world — the  name  later  used 
to  designate  the  gloomy  subter¬ 
ranean  land  of  th"5  dead,  147. 

Hse'mon,  son  of  Creon  of  Thebes, 
and  lover  of  Antigone,  183. 

Haemo'ni-an  city,  73. 

Hae'mus,  Mount,  northern  boundary 
of  Thrace,  31,  43. 

Ha'gan,  a  principal  character  in  the 
Nibelungen  Lied,  slayer  of  Sieg¬ 
fried,  352,  353,  354,  356,  357. 

Hal-cy'o-ne,  daughter  of  .TEneas, 
and  the  beloved  wife  of  Ceyx, 
who,  when  he  was  drowned,  flew 
to  his  floating  body,  and  the  pity¬ 
ing  gods  changed  them  both  to 
birds  (kingfishers),  who  nest  at 
sea  during  a  certain  calm  week 
in  winter  (“halcyon  weather”), 
69-76. 

Ham-a-dry'ads,  tree-  or  wood- 
nymphs,  76,  172.  See  Nymphs. 

Har-mo'ni-a,  daughter  of  Mars  and 
Venus,  wife  of  Cadmus,  94,  182. 

Har'pies,  monsters,  with  head  and 
bust  of  woman,  but  wings,  legs 
and  tail  of  birds,  seizing  souls  of 
the  wicked,  or  punishing  evil¬ 
doers  by  greedily  snatching  or 
defiling  their  food,  176,  259-260, 
276. 

Har-poc'ra-tes,  Egyptian  god,  Horus, 
293. 

Heaven,  4. 

He'be,  daughter  of  Juno,  cupbearer 
to  the  gods,  3,  135,  149,  150. 

He'brus,  ancient  name  of  river 
Maritzka,  187. 

Hec'a-te,  a  mighty  and  formidable 
divinity,  supposed  to  send  at  night 
all  kinds  of  demons  and  terrible 
phantoms  from  the  lower  world, 
131,  134,  135,  266. 

Hec'tor,  son  of  Priam  and  cham¬ 
pion  of  Troy,  213,  214,  217,  218, 
220,  221,  222,  223,  224,  227,  260. 

Hec'u-ba,  wife  of  Priam,  king  of 
Troy,  to  whom  she  bore  Hector, 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


383 


Paris,  and  many  other  children, 
223,  224,  226,  232. 

Heid'run,  she-goat,  furnishing  mead 
for  slain  heroes  in  Valhalla,  331. 

Heim'dall,  watchman  of  the  gods, 
332,  347,  349. 

Hel,  the  lower  world  of  Scandi¬ 
navia,  to  which  were  consigned 
those  who  had  not  died  in  battle, 
345. 

He'la  (Death),  the  daughter  of  Lo- 
ki  and  the  mistress  of  the  Scan¬ 
dinavian  Hel,  332,  344,  345,  349. 

Hel'en,  daughter  of  Jupiter  and 
Leda;  wife  of  Menelaus;  carried 
off  by  Paris  and  cause  of  the 
Trojan  War,  77,  153,  158,  212, 
223,  229,  232,  233. 

Hel'e-nus,  son  of  Priam  and  Hec¬ 
uba,  celebrated  for  his  prophetic 
powers,  260,  261. 

He-li'a-des,  sisters  of  Phaeton,  45. 

Hel'i-con,  Mount,  in  Greece,  resi¬ 
dence  of  Apollo  and  the  Muses, 
with  fountains  of  poetic  inspira¬ 
tion,  Aganippe  and  Hippocrene, 
43,  124. 

He-li-op'o-lis,  city  of  the  Sun,  in 
Egypt,  311. 

Hel'las,  Greece,  2. 

Hel'le,  daughter  of  Thessalian  King 
Athamas,  who  escaping  from 
cruel  father  with  her  brother 
Phryxus,  on  ram  with  golden 
fleece,  fell  into  the  sea-strait  since 
named  for  her  ( See  Golden 
Fleece),  129. 

Hel'les-pont,  narrow  strait  between 
Europe  and  Asia  Minor,  named 
for  Helle  (which  See),  106,  129. 

He-phaes'tos,  6.  See  Vulcan. 

He'ra,  called  Juno  by  the  Romans, 
a  daughter  of  Cronos  (Saturn) 
and  Rhea,  and  sister  and  wife  of 
Jupiter,  6.  See  Juno. 

Her'cu-les,  athletic  hero,  son  of 
Jupiter  and  Alcmena,  achieved 
twelve  vast  labors  and  many  fa¬ 
mous  deeds,  128,  130,  133,  143- 
149,  150,  151,  153,  165,  177,  178, 
179,  181,  193,  229,  279,  301. 


Her'cu-les,  Pillars  of  ( See  Pillars 
of  Hercules),  145. 

Her'cu-les,  the  twelve  labors  of, 
144-147. 

Her'mes  (Mercury),  messenger  of 
the  gods,  deity  of  commerce,  sci¬ 
ence,  eloquence,  trickery,  theft, 
and  skill  generally,  18,  49-51,  293. 

Her-mi'o-ne,  daughter  of  Menelaus 
and  Helen,  233. 

Her'mod,  the  nimble,  son  of  Odin, 
345. 

He'ro,  a  priestess  of  Venus,  beloved 
of  Leander  (which  See),  105-106. 

He-rod'o-tus,  Greek  historian,  307. 

He'si-od,  Greek  poet,  273. 

Hes-pe'ri-a,  ancient  name  for  Italy, 
259. 

Hes-per'i-des  (See  Apples  of  the 
Hesperides),  46,  145. 

Hes'pe-rus,  the  evening  star  (also 
called  Day-Star,  p.  41),  53,  69, 
145. 

Hes'ti-a,  called  Vesta  by  the  Ro¬ 
mans,  the  goddess  of  the  hearth, 
10. 

Hil'de-brand,  German  magician  and 
champion,  353. 

Hin'du  mythology,  320-321. 

Hin'du  triad,  Brahma^  Vishnu,  and 
Siva  (which  See),  320-323. 

Hip-po-cre'ne  (See  Helicon),  124. 

Hip-po-da-mi'a,  wife  of  Pirithous,  at 
whose  wedding  the  Centaurs  of¬ 
fered  violence  to  the  bride,  caus¬ 
ing  a  great  battle,  127. 

Hip-pol'y-ta,  Queen  of  the  Amazons, 
145,  154. 

Hip-pol'y-tus,  son  of  Thesus,  154. 

Hip-pom'e-nes,  who  won  Atalanta  in 
foot-race,  beguiling  her  with 
golden  apples  thrown  for  her  to 
pick  up,  66,  141-142. 

Ho'dur,  blind  man,  who,  fooled  by 
Loki,  threw  a  mistletoe-twig  at 
Baldur,  killing  him,  344-345. 

Ho'mer,  the  blind  poet  of  Greece, 
about  850  b.c.,  202,  212,  216,  273, 
306-307. 

Hope  (See  Pandora),  14. 

Ho'rae.  See  Hours. 


384 


INDEX  AND  .  DICTIONARY 


Ho'rus,  Egyptian  god  of  the  sun, 
293. 

Hours,  39,  41,  208. 

Hring'ham,  Baldur’s  ship,  347. 

Hu'gi,  who  beat  Thialfi  in  foot¬ 
races,  340. 

Hu'gin,  one  of  Odin’s  two  ravens, 
330. 

Hun'ger,  266,  333. 

Hun'ding,  husband  of  Sieglinda, 
355. 

Hy-a-cin'thus,  a  youth,  beloved  by 
Apollo,  and  accidentally  killed  by 
him,  changed  in  death  to  the 
flower,  hyacinth,  67-68,  228. 

Hy'a  -des,  Nyszean  nymphs,  nurses 
of  infant  Bacchus,  rewarded  by 
being  placed  as  cluster  of  stars  in 
the  heavens,  160. 

Hy'a-le,  a  nymph  of  Diana,  34. 

Hy'dra,  nine-headed  monster  slain 
by  Hercules,  144,  149,  267,  269. 

Hy-ge'i-a,  goddess  of  health,  daugh¬ 
ter  of  .TEsculapius,  174. 

Hy'las,  a  youth  detained  by  nymphs 
of  spring  where  he  sought  water, 
133. 

Hy'men,  the  god  of  marriage,  imag¬ 
ined  as  a  handsome  youth  and  in¬ 
voked  in  bridal  songs,  20,  185. 

Hy-met'tus,  mountain  in  Attica, 
near  Athens,  celebrated  for  its 
marble  and  its  honey,  63. 

Hy-per-bo're-ans,  people  of  the  far 
North,  2. 

Hy-pe'ri-on,  a  Titan,  son  of  Ura¬ 
nus  and  Ge,  and  father  of  He¬ 
lios,  Selene,  and  Eos,  4,  5;  cattle 
of,  244. 

Hy-ri-e'us,  king  in  Greece,  297. 


I 

I-ap'e-tus,  a  Titan,  son  of  Uranus 
and  Ge,  and  father  of  Atlas, 
Prometheus,  Epimetheus,  and  Me- 
noetius,  4,  18. 

I-a'si-us,  father  of  Atalanta,  138. 

Ib'y-cus,  a  poet,  story  of,  and  the 
cranes,  198-201. 


I-ca'ri-a,  island  of  the  .TEgean  Sea, 
one  of  the  Sporades,  157. 

I-ca'ri-us,  Spartan  prince,  father  of 
Penelope,  184. 

Ic'a-rus,  son  of  Daedalus,  he  flew 
too  neai>  the  sun  with  artificial 
wings,  and,  the  wax  melting,  he 
fell  into  the  sea,  156,  157. 

Ice'land,  351. 

Ice-los,  attendant  of  Morpheus,  72. 

I-coTum-kill.  See  Iona. 

I'da,  Mount,  a  Trojan  hill,  43,  150, 

211. 

I-dae'us,  a  Trojan  herald,  226. 

I'das,  son  of  Aphareus  and  Arene, 
and  brother  of  Lynceus,  158. 

I- du'na,  wife  of  Bragi,  332. 

Il'i-ad,  epic  poem  of  the  Trojan 

War,  by  Homer,  216,  227. 

Il'i-o'heus,  a  son  of  Niobe  (which 
See),  113. 

Il'i-um.  See  Troy. 

II- lyr'i-a,  Adriatic  countries  north 
of  Greece,  31,  94. 

In'a-chus,  son  of  Oceanus  and  Te- 
thys,  and  father  of  Phoroneus 
and  Io;  also  first  king  of  Argos, 
and  said  to  have  given  his  name 
to  the  river  Inachus,  29. 

In'dia,  39,  161. 

In'dra,  Hindu  god  of  heaven,  thun¬ 
der,  lightning,  storm  and  rain, 
320. 

Infernal  regions,  266-273. 

I'na,  wife  of  Athamas,  fleeing  from 
whom  with  infant  son  she  sprang 
into  the  sea  and  was  changed  to 
Leucothea  (which  See),  94,  164, 
174. 

I'o,  changed  to  a  heifer  by  Jupiter, 
29-31,  302. 

I-ob'a-tes,  King  of  Lycia,  124,  125. 

I-o-la'us,  servant  of  Hercules,  144. 

I-ol'cos,  133. 

I'o-le,  sister  of  Dryope,  64-65. 

I-o'na,  or  Icolmkill,  a  small  north¬ 
ern  island  near  Scotland,  where 
St.  Columba  founded  a  missionary 
monastery  (563  a.d.),  362-366. 

I-o'ni-a,  coast  of  Asia  Minor,  69. 

I-o'ni-an  Sea,  31. 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


385 


Iph-i-ge-ni'a,  daughter  of  Agamem¬ 
non,  offered  as  a  sacrifice  but 
carried  away  by  Diana,  214,  235. 

I'phis,  died  for  love  of  Anaxarete, 
78. 

Iph'i-tus,  friend  of  Hercules,  killed 
by  him,  147. 

Ire'land,  362. 

I'ris,  goddess  of  the  rainbow,  mes¬ 
senger  of  Juno  and  Zeus,  6,  71* 
72,  218,  225,  282. 

Iron  Age,  15. 

I'sis,  wife  of  Osiris;  described  as 
the  giver  of  death,  292‘,  293-294. 

Isles  of  the  Blessed,  2,  146,  273. 

Is'ma-rus,  first  stop  of  Ulysses,  re¬ 
turning  from  Trojan  War,  236. 

Is-me'nos,  a  son  of  Niobe,  slain  by 
Apollo,  113. 

Isth'mi-an  Games,  155,  174.  See 
Games. 

It'a-ly,  154,  259,  262,  263,  276,  285. 

Ith'a-ca,  home  of  Ulysses  and  Penel¬ 
ope,  184,  212,  236,  253. 

I-uTus,  son  of  ZEneas,  276,  277,  283, 
287. 

Ix-i'on,  once  a  sovereign  of  Thes¬ 
saly,  sentenced  in  Tartarus  to  be 
lashed  with  serpents  to  a  wheel 
which  a  strong  wind  drove  con¬ 
tinually  around,  186,  270. 

J 

Ja-nic'u-lum,  Roman  fortress  on  the 
Janiculus,  a  hill  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Tiber,  281. 

Ja'nus,  a  deity  from  the  earliest 
times  held  in  high  estimation  by 
the  Romans,  10,  281;  temple  of, 
277. 

Ja-pan',  326. 

Ja'phet  (Iapetus),  18. 

Ja'son,  leader  of  the  Argonauts, 
seeking  the  Golden  Fleece,  130- 
133,  134,  135,  136,  138-139,  151. 

Ja'va,  326. 

Jo-cas'ta,  124,  182. 

Jo'tun-heim,  home  of  the  giants  in 
Northern  mythology,  330,  335, 

348. 


Jove  (Zeus),  chietf  god  of  Roman 
and  Grecian  mythology,  5,  9,  13, 
53,  56,  80,  98,  100,  118,  119,  172, 
177,  183,  210,  216,  220,  221,  239, 
245,  268.  See  Jupiter. 

Jug'ger-naut,  Hindu  deity,  322. 

Ju'no,  the  particular  guardian  spirit 
of  each  woman  ( See  Genius),  11. 

Ju'no,  wife  of  Jupiter,  queen  of  the 
gods,  6,  28-33,  37,  38,  71,  72,  81, 
95,  101,  112,  123,  143,  144,  145, 
149,  150,  160,  177,  211,  216,  218, 

220,  261,  277,  278,  279,  282,  287, 

289. 

Ju'pi-ter,  Jovis-pater,  Father  Jove; 
Jupiter  and  Jove  used  interchange¬ 
ably,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  8,  9,  13,  14, 
15,  16,  21,  29-32,  38,  40,  44,  45, 
49,  50,  52,  89,  91,  92,  97,  107, 
109,  116,  117,  123,  125,  127,  128, 

130,  143,  148,  150,  153,  155,  158, 

160,  173,  179,  180,  182,  187,  192, 

204,  206,  207,  208,  211,  217,  218, 

220,  221,  225,  226,  232,  240,  259, 

263,  269,  287;  oracle  of,  at  Do- 
dona,  296;  statue  of  the  Olym¬ 
pian,  303. 

Ju'pi-ter  Am'mon  (See  Ammon), 
296. 

Ju'piter  Cap'i-to-li'nus,  temple  of, 
preserving  the  Sibylline  books,  275. 

Jus'tice.  See  Themis. 

K 

Kal'ki,  tenth  avatar  (which  See)  of 
Vishnu,  321. 

Ke-da'li-on,  guide  of  Orion,  205-206. 

Ker'man,  desert  of,  320. 

Kneph,  .spirit  or  breath,  292. 

Kriem'hild,  wife  of  Siegfried,  352, 
35  3. 

Krish'na,  eighth  avatar  (which  See) 
of  Vishnu,  Hindu  deity  of  fer¬ 
tility  in  nature  and  mankind,  321. 

L 

Lab'y-rinth,  the  enclosed  maze  of 
passageways  where  roamed  the 
Minotaur  of  Crete,  killed  by 


386 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


Theseus  with  aid  of  Ariadne, 
152,  156. 

Lach'e-sis,  one  of  the  Fates  (which 
See),  9. 

La-er'tes,  father  of  Ulysses,  185. 

Laes-try-go'ni-ans,  savages  attacking 
Ulysses,  241. 

La'ius,  King  of  Thebes,  123. 

La'raa,  holy  man  of  Thibet,  327. 

Lam-pe'tia,  daughter  of  Hyperion, 
244. 

La-oc'o-on,  a  priest  of  Neptune,  in 
Troy,  who  warned  the  Trojans 
against  the  Wooden  Horse  (which 
See),  but  when  two  serpents 
came  out  of  the  sea  and  strangled 
him  and  his  two  sons,  the  people 
listened  to  the  Greek  spy  Sinon 
(which  See),  and  brought  the  fatal 
Horse  into  the  town,  115,  230. 

La-o-da-mi'a,  daughter  of  Acastus 
and  wife  of  Protesilaus,  214. 

La-om'e-don,  King  of  Troy,  207. 

Lap'i-tha:,  Thessalonians,  whose  king 
had  invited  the  Centaurs  to  his 
daughter’s  wedding  but  who  at¬ 
tacked  them  for  offering  violence 
to  the  bride,  127,  166. 

La'res,  household  deities,  11. 

Lark'spur,  flower  from  the  blood  of 
Ajax,  228. 

La-ti'nus,  ruler  of  Latium,  where 
ASneas  landed  in  Italy,  276. 

Lat'mos,  Mount,  where  Diana  fell 
in  love  with  Endymion,  204. 

La-to'na,  mother  of  Apollo,  6,  36- 
38,  112,  113. 

Lau'sus,  son  of  Mezentius,  killed 
by  Aineas,  278,  285. 

La-vin'i-a,  daughter  of  Latinus  and 
wife  of  Aineas,  276,  287. 

La-vin'i-um,  Italian  city  named  for 
Lavinia,  287. 

Law.  See  Themis. 

Le-an'der,  a  youth  of  Abydos,  who, 
swimming  the  Hellespont  to  see 
Hero,  his  love,  was  drowned,  105- 
106. 

Le-ba-de'a,  site  of  the  oracle  of 
Trophonius,  298. 

Le-byn'thos,  Aigean  island,  157. 


Le'da,  Queen  of  Sparta,  wooed  by 
Jupiter  in  the  form  of  a  swan, 
109,  158. 

Le'laps,  dog  of  Cephalus,  26,  35. 

Lem'nos,  large  island  in  the  Aegean 
Sea,  sacred  to  Vulcan,  6,  130, 
205,  229. 

Lem'u-res,  the  spectres  or  spirits 
of  the  dead,  11. 

Le'the,  river  of  Hades,  drinking 
whose  water  caused  forgetfulness, 
72,  271. 

Leu-ca'dia,  a  promontory,  whence 
Sappho,  disappointed  in  love,  was 
said  to  have  thrown  herself  into 
the  sea,  203. 

Leu-co'the-a,  a  sea-goddess,  invoked 
by  sailors  for  protection  (See 
Ino),  174. 

Li'ber,  ancient  god  of  fruitfulness, 

10,  11. 

Li-be'thra,  burial-place  of  Orpheus, 
187. 

Lib'y-a,  Greek  name  for  continent 
of  Africa  in  general,  145. 

Lib'y-an  Desert,  in  Africa,  44. 

Lib'y-an  Oasis,  296. 

Li'chas,  who  brought  the  shirt  of 
Nessus  to  Hercules,  148. 

Li'nus,  musical  instructor  of  Her¬ 
cules,  193. 

Lion,  constellation,  41. 

Little  Bear,  constellation,  32-33,  42. 

Lo'gi,  who  vanquished  Loki  in  an 
eating-contest,  339. 

Lo'ki,  the  Satan  of  Norse  mythol¬ 
ogy,  son  of  the  giant  Farbanti, 
332,  334,  335,  337,  339,  344-345, 
346,  347,  349,  352,  354,  355. 

Lo'tis,  a  nymph,  changed  to  a  lotus- 
plant  and  in  that  form  plucked 
by  Dryope  (which  See),  64. 

Lo'tus-Eaters,  soothed  to  indolence; 
companions  of  Ulysses  landing 
among  them  lost  all  memory  of 
home  and  had  to  be  dragged 
away  before  they  would  continue 
their  voyage,  237. 

Love  (Eros)  issued  from  egg  of 
Night,  and  with  arrows  and  torch 
produced  life  and  joy,  4. 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


387 


Lyc'a-has,  a  turbulent  sailor,  162. 

Ly-ca'on,  son  of  Priam,  222. 

Lyc'i-a,  a  district  in  Southern  Asia 
Minor,  36,  124,  220. 

Lyc-o-me'des,  king  of  the  Dolopi- 
ans,  who  treacherously  slew  The¬ 
seus,  154,  212. 

Ly'cus,  usurping  King  of  Thebes, 
192. 

Lyn'ceus,  one  of  the  sons  of 
Atgyptus,  158. 

M 

Ma-cha'on,  son  of  iEsculapius,  218, 
219,  229. 

Mae-o'ni-a,  ancient  Lydia,  162. 

Ma'gi,  Persian  priests,  319. 

Ma-ha-de'va,  same  as  Siva  (which 
See),  322. 

Ma'ia,  daughter  of  Atlas  and  Plei- 
one,  eldest  and  most  beautiful  of 
the  Pleiades,  7. 

Man,  creation  of,  12. 

Man'tu-a,  in  Italy,  birthplace  of 
Virgil,  308. 

Ma'nu,  ancestor  of  mankind,  321. 

Mar'a-thon,  where  Theseus  and 
Pirithous  met,  153. 

Mar'mo-ra,  Sea  of,  106. 

Ma'ro.  See  Virgil. 

Mars,  6,  94,  107,  131,  216,  224. 

Mar'sy-as,  inventor  of  the  flute,  who 
challenged  Apollo  to  musical  com¬ 
petition,  and,  defeated,  was  flayed 
alive,  193. 

Mats'ya,  the  Fish,  first  avatar 
(which  See)  of  Vishnu,  321. 

Me-an'der,  Grecian  river,  44,  156. 

Me-de'a,  princess  and  sorceress  who 
aided  Jason,  117,  131,  132,  134- 
137,  151,  152. 

Med-i-ter-ra'ne-an  Sea,  1,  233. 

Me-du'sa,  one  of  the  Gorgons 
(which  See),  116-117,  124. 

Me-gaeTa,  one  of  the  Furies  (which 
See),  9. 

Meg'a-ra,  98. 

Me-lam'pus,  a  Spartan  dog,  35;  the 
first  mortal  endowed  with  pro¬ 
phetic  powers,  193-194. 


Me-lan'thus,  steersman  for  Bacchus, 
162. 

Me-le-a'ger,  one  of  the  Argonauts 
( See  Althasa),  138-141. 

Mel'i-cer'tes,  infant  son  of  Ino, 
changed  to  Palaemon  ( See  Ino, 
Leucothea,  and  Palaemon),  174. 

Me-lis'se-us,  a  Cretan  king,  179. 

Mel-pom'e-ne,  one  of  the  Muses 
(which  See),  8. 

Mem'non,  the  beautiful  son  of  Ti- 
thonus  and  Eos  (Aurora),  and 
king  of  the  Ethiopians,  slain  in 
Trojan  War,  120,  207,  208,  227. 

Mem'phis,  Egyptian  city,  295,  299. 

Men-e-la'us,  son  of  King  of  Sparta, 
husband  of  Helen,  212,  213,  219, 
221,  232,  233,  289. 

Men-oe'ceus,  son  of  Creon,  volun¬ 
tary  victim  in  war  to  gain  suc¬ 
cess  for  his  father,  183. 

Men'tor,  son  of  Alcimus  and  a 
faithful  friend  of  Ulysses,  246. 

Mer'cu-ry  ( See  Hermes),  7,  13,  29- 
31,  49,  56,  89,  116,  123,  129,  147, 
192,  214,  226,  242,  245,  251,  263, 
301. 

Mer'o-pe,  daughter  of  King  of 
Chios,  beloved  by  Orion,  205. 

Mes'mer-ism,  likened  to  curative 
oracle  of  ^Esculapius  at  Epidau- 
rus,  298. 

Met'a-bus,  father  of  Camilla,  278. 

Met'a-mor'pho-ses,  Ovid’s  poetical 
legends  of  mythical  transforma¬ 
tions,  a  large  source  of  our  knowl¬ 
edge  of  classic  mythology,  309. 

Met-a-ni'ra,  a  mother,  kind  to  Ceres 
seeking  Proserpine,  54. 

Me-temp'sy-cho'sis,  transmigration  of 
souls — rebirth  of  dying  men  and 
women  in  forms  of  animals  or 
human  beings,  272. 

Me'tis,  Prudence,  a  spouse  of  Jupi¬ 
ter,  5. 

Me-zen'ti-us,  a  brave  but  cruel  sol¬ 
dier,  opposing  Aineas  in  Italy, 
278,  281,  285,  286. 

Mi'das,  46-48. 

Mid'gard,  the  middle  world  of  the 
Norsemen,  329,  330,  348. 


388 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


Mid'gard  serpent,  a  sea-monster, 
child  of  Loki,  332,  344,  349. 

Milky  Way,  starred  path  across  the 
sky,  believed  to  be  road  to  pal¬ 
ace  of  the  gods,  15. 

Mi'lo,  a  great  athlete,  292. 

Mi'me,  one  of  the  chief  dwarfs  of 
ancient  German  mythology,  354, 
356. 

Mi-ner'va  (Athene),  daughter  of 
Jupiter,  patroness  of  health,  learn¬ 
ing,  and  wisdom,  3,  4,  7,  13, 
50,  53,  107-111,  116,  117,  123, 
124,  125,  147,  153,  154,  157,  183, 
193,  211,  216,  229,  230,  235,  246, 
247,  248,  249,  250,  251,  254; 

statue  of,  304. 

Mi'nos,  King  of  Crete,  95,  98-100, 
152,  154,  156,  165,  268. 

Min'o-taur,  monster  killed  by  The¬ 
seus,  152. 

Mis'tle-toe,  fatal  to  Baldur,  344,  360. 

Mne-mos'y-ne,  one  of  the  Muses 
(which  See),  4,  8. 

Modesty,  statue  to,  184. 

MoTy,  plant,  powerful  against  sor¬ 
cery,  242. 

Mo'mus,  a  deity  whose  delight  was  to 
jeer  bitterly  at  gods  and  men,  9. 

Mon'ad,  the  “unit”  of  Pythagoras, 
289. 

Monsters,  unnatural  beings,  evilly 
disposed  to  men,  122-129. 

Month,  the,  attendant  upon  the  Sun, 
39. 

Moon,  3,  5,  41,  43;  goddess  of, 
See  Diana. 

Mor'pheus,  son  of  Sleep  and  god 
of  dreams,  72,  73. 

Mul'ci-ber,  Latin  name  of  Vulcan, 

10. 

Mull,  Island  of,  362. 

Mu'nin,  one  of  Odin’s  two  ravens, 
130. 

Mu-sae'us,  sacred  poet,  son  of 
Orpheus,  194. 

Mu'ses,  The,  nine  goddesses  pre¬ 
siding  over  poetry,  etc. — Calliope, 
epic  poetry;  Clio,  history;  Erato, 
love  poetry;  Euterpe,  lyric  poetry; 
Melpomene,  tragedy;  Polyhymnia, 


oratory  and  sacred  song;  Terp¬ 
sichore,  choral  song  and  dance; 
Thalia,  comedy  and  idyls;  Ura¬ 
nia,  astronomy,  3,  8,  43,  124,  126, 
187,  193. 

Mus'pel-heim,  the  fire-world  of  the 
Norsemen,  349. 

My-ce'nae,  ancient  Grecian  city,  of 
which  Agamemnon  was  king,  213, 
235. 

Myr'mi-dons,  bold  soldiers  of 
Achilles,  95-98,  219. 

Mys'i-a,  Greek  district  on  northwest 
coast  of  Asia  Minor,  130,  133. 

Mythology,  origin  of,  collected 
myths,  describing  gods  of  early 
peoples,  300-303. 

N 

Na'iads,  water-nymphs,  36,  45,  167, 
174,  178,  209. 

Nan'na,  wife  of  Baldur,  347. 

Na'pe,  a  dog  of  Diana,  35. 

Nar-cis'sus,  who  died  of  unsatis¬ 
fied  love  for  his  own  image  in  the 
water,  101-103. 

Nau-sic'a-a,  daughter  of  King  Al- 
cinous,  who  befriended  Ulysses, 
248,  249. 

Nau-sith'o-us,  king  of  Phaeacians, 
247,  248. 

Nax'os,  Island  of,  152,  163,  165. 

Ne'gus,  King  of  Abyssinia,  328. 

Ne-me'a,  forest  devastated  by  a 
lion  killed  by  Hercules,  144,  155. 

Ne-me'an  Games,  held  in  honor  of 
Jupiter  and  Hercules,  155. 

Ne-me'an  Lion,  killed  by  Hercules, 
144. 

Nem'e-sis,  goddess  of  vengeance,  9. 

Ne-op-tol'e-mus,  son  of  Achilles, 
233. 

Ne-pen'the,  ancient  drug  to  cause 
forgetfulness  of  pain  or  distress, 
233. 

Neph'e-le,  mother  of  Phryxus  and 
Helle,  34,  129. 

Neph'thys,  Egyptian  goddess,  294. 

Nep'tune,  identical  with  Poseidon, 
god  of  the  sea,  4,  5,  16,  44,  107, 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


389 


109,  132,  144,  154,  171,  172,  173, 

174,  190,  199,  205,  216,  217,  218, 

223,  230,  244,  252,  261,  264,  297. 

Ne're-ids,  sea-nymphs,  daughters  of 
Nereus  and  Doris,  44,  167,  173, 
196. 

Ne're-us,  a  sea-god,  44,  173,  174, 
209. 

Nes'sus,  a  centaur  killed  by  Her¬ 
cules,  whose  jealous  wife  sent  him 
a  robe  or  shirt  steeped  in  the 
blood  of  Nessus,  which  poisoned 
him,  147. 

Nes'tor,  king  of  Pylos,  renowned 
for  his  wisdom,  justice,  and 
knowledge  of  war,  130,  138,  139, 
208,  213,  217,  218,  219,  353. 

Ni'be-lun'gen  Hoard,  treasure  seized 
by  Siegfried  from  the  Nibelungs, 
buried  in  the  Rhine  by  Hagan 
after  killing  Siegfried,  and  lost 
when  Hagan  was  killed  by  Kriem- 
hild;  theme  of  Wagner’s  four 
music-dramas,  “The  Ring  of  the 
Nibelungen,”  353. 

Ni'be-lun'gen  Lied,  German  epic, 
giving  the  same  nature-myth  as 
the  Norse  Volsunga  Saga,  concern¬ 
ing  the  Hoard,  352,  354. 

Ni'be-lun'gen  Ring,  Wagner’s  mu¬ 
sic-dramas,  354-357. 

Ni'be-lungs,  the,  a  race  of  Northern 
dwarfs,  353,  354. 

Nid'hogge,  a  serpent  in  the  lowe^ 
world  that  lives  on  the  dead, 
330. 

Niffle'heim,  mist  world  of  the 
Norsemen;  the  Hades  of  absent 
spirits,  330,  333,  335,  348. 

Night,  4,  42,  208. 

Nile,  Egyptian  river,  31,  44. 

Nim'rod,  tower  of,  301. 

Ni'nus,  Tomb  of,  24. 

Ni'o-be,  daughter  of  Tantalus,  proud 
Queen  of  Thebes,  whose  seven 
sons  and  seven  daughters  were 
killed  by  Apollo  and  Diana,  at 
which  Amphion,  her  husband, 
killed  himself,  and  Niobe  wept 
until  she  was  turned  to  stone, 
111-115. 


Ni'sus,  King  of  Megara,  98-101, 
282,  283,  284. 

No'man,  name  assumed  by  Ulysses, 
239. 

Norns,  the  three  Scandinavian 
Fates,  Urdur  (the  past),  Ver- 
dandi  (the  present),  and  Skuld 
(the  future),  330. 

Northern  Mythology,  328-357. 

No'thung,  magic  sword,  355,  356. 

No'tus,  southwest  wind,  176. 

Nox,  daughter  of  Chaos  and  sister 
of  Erebus;  personification  of 
night,  4. 

Nu'ma,  second  king  of  Rome,  11, 
175. 

Nymphs,  beautiful  maidens,  lesser 
divinities  of  nature:  Dryads  and 
Hamadryads,  tree-nymphs;  Naiads, 
spring-,  brook-,  and  river-nymphs; 
Nereids,  sea-nymphs;  Oreads, 
mountain-  or  hill-nymphs,  44,  79, 
208. 

Ny-sae'an  nymphs,  160. 


O 

Ocean,  2,  44,  273. 

O-ce'a-nus,  a  Titan,  ruling  watery 
elements,  4,  32,  59,  172,  174. 

O-cyr'o-e,  a  prophetess,  daughter  of 
Chiron,  127. 

O'din,  chief  of  the  Norse  gods,  329, 
330,  331,  344,  347,  349,  351. 

O-dys'seus.  See  Ulysses. 

Od'ys-sey,  Homer’s  poem,  relating 
the  wanderings  of  Odysseus 
(Ulysses)  on  returning  from  Tro¬ 
jan  War,  3,  227,  236. 

(Ed'i-pus,  Theban  hero,  who  guessed 
the  riddle  of  the  Sphinx  (which 
See),  becoming  King  of  Thebes, 
123-124,  182. 

CE'neus,  King  of  Calydon,  138,  140. 

CE-no'ne,  nymph,  married  by  Paris 
in  his  youth,  and  abandoned  for 
Helen,  229. 

CE-no'pi-on,  King  of  Chios,  205. 

CE'ta,  Mount,  scene  of  Hercules* 
death,  148. 


390 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


O-lym'pia,  a  small  plain  in  Elis, 
where  the  Olympic  games  were 
celebrated,  155. 

O-lym'pi-ads,  periods  between  Olym¬ 
pic  games  (four  years),  155. 

O-lym'pi-an  games,  155.  See  Games. 

O-lym'pus,  dwelling-place  of  the  dy¬ 
nasty  of  gods  of  which  Zeus  was 
the  head,  1,  3,  5,  43,  94,  213, 
280. 

Om'pha-le,  queen  of  Lydia,  daugh¬ 
ter  of  Iardanus  and  wife  of 
Tmolus,  147. 

O-phi'on,  king  of  the  Titans,  who 
ruled  Olympus  till  dethroned  by 
the  gods  Saturn  and  Rhea,  4,  5. 

Ops.  See  Rhea. 

Or'a-cles,  answers  from  the  gods  to 
questions  from  seekers  for  knowl¬ 
edge  or  advice  for  the  future, 
usually  in  equivocal  form,  so  as 
to  fit  any  event;  also  places  where 
such  answers  were  given  forth, 
usually  by  a  priest  or  priestess, 
296-300. 

O're-ads,  nymphs  of  mountains  and 
hills,  167,  170. 

O-res'tes,  son  of  Agamemnon  and 
Clytemnestra;  because  of  his 
crime  in  killing  his  mother,  he 
was  pursued  by  the  Furies  until 
purified  by  Minerva,  234,  235. 

O-ri'on,  youthful  giant,  loved  by 
Diana;  Constellation,  122,  205-206. 

Or-i-thy'i-a,  a  nymph,  seized  by 
Boreas,  176. 

Or'muzd  (Greek,  Oromasdes),  son 
of  Supreme  Being,  source  of  good 
as  his  brother  Ahriman  (Arima- 
nes)  was  of  evil,  in  Persian  or 
Zoroastrian  religion,  318. 

Or'pheus,  musician,  son  of  Apollo 
and  Calliope,  130,  133,  158,  185- 
188,  191,  194,  271.  See  Eury- 
dice. 

O-si'ris,  the  most  beneficent  of  the 
Egyptian  gods,  292,  293-294. 

Os'sa,  mountain  of  Thessaly,  43, 
123. 

Os'sian,  Celtic  poet  of  the  second 
or  third  century,  361. 


Ov'id,  Latin  poet  ( See  Meta¬ 
morphoses),  98,  275,  289,  308. 

P 

Pac-to'lus,  river  whose  sands  were 
changed  to  gold  by  Midas  (which 
See),  47. 

Pse'on,  a  name  for  both  Apollo  and 
iEsculapius,  gods  of  medicine, 
174. 

Pa'gans,  heathen,  12. 

Pa-lae'mon,  son  of  Athamas  and 
Ino  (which  See),  174. 

Pal-a-me'des,  messenger  sent  to  call 
Ulysses  to  the  Trojan  War,  212. 

Pal'a-tine,  one  of  Rome’s  Seven 
Hills,  281. 

Pa'les,  goddess  presiding  over  cattle 
and  pastures,  10,  11. 

Pal-i-nu'rus,  faithful  steersman  of 
ZEneas,  264,  267. 

Pal-la'di-um,  properly  any  image 
of  Pallas  Athene,  but  specially 
applied  to  an  image  at  Troy, 
which  was  stolen  by  Ulysses  and 
Diomedes,  229,  232. 

Pal'las,  son  of  Evander,  279,  280, 
281,  282,  286,  287. 

Pal'las  A-the'ne  (Minerva),  7,  81, 
224,  249. 

Pam'pha-gus,  a  dog  of  Diana,  35. 

Pan,  god  of  nature  and  the  uni¬ 
verse,  9,  30,  31,  47,  76,  166-168. 

Pan-ath-e-nse'a,  festival  in  honor  of 
Pallas  Athene  (Minerva),  154. 

Pan-de'an  Pipes,  musical  instru¬ 
ment  of  reeds,  made  by  Pan  in 
memory  of  Syrinx  (which  See). 

Pan-do'ra  (all-gifted),  first  woman, 
dowered  with  gifts  by  every  god, 
yet  entrusted  with  a  box  she  was 
cautioned  not  to  open;  but,  curi¬ 
ous,  she  opened  it,  and  out  flew 
all  the  ills  of  humanity,  leaving 
behind  only  Hope,  which  re¬ 
mained,  13-14,  17,  18. 

Pan'o-pe,  plain  of,  92,  113. 

Pan'thus,  alleged  earlier  incarnation 
of  Pythagoras,  289. 

Paph'la-go'ni-a,  ancient  country  in 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


391 


Asia  Minor,  south  of  Black  Sea, 
208. 

Pa'phos,  daughter  of  Pygmalion  and 
Galatea  (both  of  which  See),  63, 
66. 

Par'cse.  See  Fates. 

Pa-ri'ahs,  lowest  caste  of  Hindus, 
324. 

Par'is,  son  of  Priam  and  Hecuba, 
who  eloped  with  Helen  (which 
See),  211,  212,  213,  216,  218, 
228,  229,  232,  261. 

Par-nas-sian  laurel,  wreath  from 
Parnassus,  crown  awarded  to  suc¬ 
cessful  poets,  47. 

Par-nas'sus,  mountain  near  Delphi, 
sacred  to  Apollo  and  the  Muses, 
16,  19,  20,  43,  297. 

Par'sees,  Persian  fire-worshippers 
(Zoroastrians),  of  whom  there  are 
still  thousands  in  Persia  and  In¬ 
dia,  320. 

Par'the-non,  the  temple  of  Athene 
Parthenos  (“the  Virgin”)  on  the 
Acropolis  of  Athens,  155,  304. 

Pa-tro'clus,  friend  of  Achilles, 
killed  by  Hector,  218,  219,  220, 
221,  225. 

Peg'a-sus,  winged  horse,  born  from 
the  sea-foam  and  the  blood  of 
Medusa,  124-126. 

Pe'leus,  king  of  the  Myrmidons, 
father  of  Achilles  by  Thetis,  138, 
173,  211. 

Pe'li-as,  usurping  uncle  of  Jason, 
130,  132,  136,  180. 

Pe'li-on,  mountain,  123,  133. 

Pe-na'tes,  protective  household  dei¬ 
ties  of  the  Romans,  11. 

Pe-nel'o-pe,  wife  of  Ulysses,  who, 
waiting  twenty  years  for  his  re¬ 
turn  from  the  Trojan  War,  put 
off  the  suitors  for  her  hand  by 
promising  to  choose  one  when 
her  weaving  was  done,  but  un¬ 
ravelled  at  night  what  she  had 
woven  by  day,  77,  184,  185,  212, 
254,  256. 

Pe-ne'us,  river  god,  20;  river,  144. 

Pen-the-si-le'a,  queen  of  Amazons, 
228. 


Pen'the-us,  king  of  Thebes;  having 
resisted  the  introduction  of  the 
worship  of  Bacchus  into  his 
kingdom,  was  driven  mad  by  the 
god,  94,  161,  164. 

Pe'nus,  Roman  house  pantry,  giv¬ 
ing  name  to  the  Penates,  11. 

Pep'lus,  sacred  robe  of  Minerva, 
155. 

Per'dix,  inventor  of  saw  and  com¬ 
passes,  157. 

Per'i-an'der,  King  of  Corinth,  friend 
of  Arion,  195-198. 

Per-i-phe'tes,  son  of  Vulcan,  killed 
by  Theseus,  151. 

Per-seph'o-ne,  goddess  of  vegeta¬ 
tion,  8.  See  Proserpine. 

Per'seus,  son  of  Jupiter  and  Danae, 
slayer  of  the  Gorgon  Medusa, 
deliverer  of  Andromeda  from  a 
sea-monster,  116-122,  124,  202. 

Phae-a'ci-ans,  people  who  entertained 
Ulysses,  247-253. 

Phae'dra,  faithless  and  cruel  wife  of 
Theseus,  153-154. 

Pha-e-thu'sa,  sister  of  Phaeton,  244. 

Pha-e-ton,  son  of  Phoebus,  who 
dared  attempt  to  drive  his  father’s 
sun-chariot,  38-45. 

Phan'ta-sos,  a  son  of  Somnus, 
bringing  strange  images  to  sleep¬ 
ing  men,  72. 

Pha'on,  beloved  by  Sappho,  203. 

Phid'i-as,  famous  Greek  sculptor, 
303,  304,  305. 

Phi-le'mon,  husband  of  Baucis 
(which  See),  49-51. 

Phil-oc-te'tes,  warrior  who  lighted 
the  fatal  pyre  of  Hercules,  148, 
229. 

Phil'o-e,  burial-place  of  Osiris,  294. 

Phin'e-us,  betrothed  to  Andromeda, 
120-121,  130,  131,  259. 

Phleg'e-thon,  fiery  river  of  Hades, 
269. 

Pho'cis,  234,  235,  297. 

Phoebe,  one  of  the  sisters  of  Pha* 
eton.  \ 

Phoe'bus  (Apollo),  god  of  music, 
prophecy,  and  archery,  the  sun- 


392 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


god,  6,  22,  34,  38,  39-41,  68,  71, 

92,  220. 

Phoe-ni'cia,  91,  233,  294,  301. 

Phoe-ni'ci-ans,  94,  296,  358. 

Phce'nix,  a  messenger  to  Achilles, 
217;  also,  a  miraculous  bird, 
dying  in  fire  by  its  own  act  and 
springing  up  alive  from  its  own 
ashes,  310-312. 

Phor'bas,  a  companion  of  ^Eneas, 
whose  form  was  assumed  by  Nep¬ 
tune  in  luring  Palinuras  the 
helmsman  from  his  post,  264. 

Phryg'i-a,  48,  49,  112,  160. 

Phryx'us,  brother  of  Helle  (which 
See),  130. 

Pillars  of  Hercules,  two  mountains 
— Cal'pe,  now  the  Rock  of  Gibral¬ 
tar,  southwest  corner  of  Spain  in 
Europe,  and  Ab'y-la,  facing  it 
in  Africa  across  the  strait,  145. 

Pin'dar,  famous  Greek  poet,  273. 

Pin'dus,  Grecian  mountain,  43. 

Pi-re'ne,  celebrated  fountain  at 
Corinth,  125. 

Pi-rith'o-us,  king  of  the  Lapithae  in 
Thessaly,  and  friend  of  Theseus, 
husband  of  Hippodamia  (which 
See),  127,  138,  153,  158,  166. 

Pleasure,  daughter  of  Cupid  and 
Psyche,  89. 

Ple'ia-des,  seven  of  Diana's  nymphs, 
changed  into  stars,  one  being  lost, 
206,  208. 

Plenty,  the  Horn  of,  178-179. 

Plex-ip'pus,  brother  of  Althea,  139. 

Plin'y,  Roman  naturalist,  313,  315, 
317. 

Plu'to,  the  same  as  Hades,  Dis, 
etc.;  god  of  the  Infernal  Re¬ 
gions,  5,  8,  9,  52-56,  58,  88,  127, 
135,  147,  153,  180,  186,  265,  267. 

Plu'tus,  god  of  wealth,  9 

Po,  Italian  river,  271. 

Pole-star,  33. 

Po-li'tes,  youngest  son  of  Priam  of 
Troy,  232, 

Pol'lux,  Castor  and  (Dioscuri,  the 
Twins)  ( See  Castor),  133,  158- 
159,  202,  203. 


Pol-y-dec'tes,  king  of  Seriphus,  116, 

202. 

Pol-y-do're,  slain  kinsman  of  JEneas; 
whose  blood  nourished  a  bush 
that  bled  when  broken,  258. 

Pol-y-hym'ni-a,  Muse  of  oratory  and 
sacred  song,  8. 

Po-ly'i-dus,  soothsayer,  125. 

Pol-y-ni'ces,  King  of  Thebes,  182, 
183. 

Pol-y-phe'mus,  giant  son  of  Nep¬ 
tune,  173,  209,  237,  238,  260. 

Po-lyx'e-na,  daughter  of  King  Priam 
of  Troy,  228,  |232. 

Po-mo'na,  goddess  of  fruit-trees 
(See  Vertumnus),  10,  11,  26,  76- 
79. 

Por-tu'nus,  Roman  name  for  Palae- 
mon  (which  See),  174. 

Po-sei'don  (Neptune),  ruler  of  the 
ocean,  5. 

Poverty,  266. 

Prec'i-pice,  threshold  of  Helas  hall, 
333. 

Pres'ter  John,  a  rumored  priest  or 
presbyter,  a  Christian  pontiff  in 
Upper  Asia,  believed  in  but  never 
found,  327-328. 

Pri'am,  king  of  Troy,  207,  213, 
223,  224,  225,  226,  228,  232. 

Pro'cris,  beloved  but  jealous  wife 
of  Cephalus,  26-28. 

Pro-crus'tes,  who  seized  travellers 
and  bound  them  on  his  iron  bed, 
stretching  the  short  ones  and  cut¬ 
ting  short  the  tall;  thus  also 
himself  served  by  Theseus,  151. 

Proe'tus,  jealous  of  Bellerophon,  125. 

Pro-me'theus,  creator  of  man,  who 
stole  fire  from  heaven  for  man’s 
use,  12,  13,  16,  17,  18,  173. 

Pros'er-pine,  the  same  as  Perse¬ 
phone,  goddess  of  all  growing 
things,  daughter  of  Ceres,  carried 
off  by  Pluto,  8,  11,  53-57,  88, 
134  n.,  147,  186,  265,  266. 

Pro-tes-i-la'us,  slain  by  Hector  the 
Trojan,  allowed  by  the  gods  to 
return  for  three  hours’  talk  with 
his  widow  Laodomia,  214. 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


393 


Pro'teus,  the  old  man  of  the  sea, 
60,  173,  190-191. 

Pru'dence  (Metis),  spouse  of  Jupi¬ 
ter,  5. 

Psy'che,  a  beautiful  maiden,  per¬ 
sonification  of  the  human  soul, 
sought  by  Cupid  (Love),  to  whom 
she  responded,  lost  him  by  curi¬ 
osity  to  see  him  (as  he  came  to 
her  only  by  night),  but  finally 
through  his  prayers  was  made  im¬ 
mortal  and  restored  to  him;  a 
symbol  of  immortality,  80-91. 

Pu-ra'nas,  Hindu  Scriptures,  322. 

Pyg-ma'li-on,  sculptor  in  love  with 
a  statue  he  had  made,  brought 
to  life  by  Venus,  62-63;  brother 
of  Queen  Dido,  262. 

Pyg'mies,  nation  of  dwarfs,  at  war 
with  the  Cranes,  128. 

Py'la-des,  son  of  Straphius,  friend 
of  Orestes,  234. 

Pyr'a-mus,  who?  loved  Thisbe,  next- 
door  neighbor,  and,  their  parents 
opposing,  they  talked  through 
cracks  in  the  house-wall,  agree¬ 
ing  to  meet  in  the  near-by  woods; 
where  Pyramus,  finding  a  bloody 
veil  and  thinking  Thisbe  slain, 
killed  himself,  and  she,  seeing 
his  body,  killed  herself.  (Bur¬ 
lesqued  in  Shakespeare’s  “Mid¬ 
summer  Night’s  Dream”),  23-26. 

Pyr'rha,  wife  of  Deucalion  (which 
See),  16-17. 

Pyr'rhus  (Neoptolemus),  son  of 
Achilles,  232. 

Py-thag'o-ras,  Greek  philosopher 
(540  b.c.),  who  thought  numbers 
to  be  the  essence  and  principle  of 
all  things,  and  taught  transmi¬ 
gration  of  souls  of  the  dead  into 
new  life  as  human  or  animal  be¬ 
ings,  288. 

Pyth'i-a,  priestess  of  Apollo  at  Del¬ 
phi,  297. 

Pytb'i-an  Games,  19,  155. 

Pyth'i-an  Oracle,  84. 

ipy'thon,  serpent  springing  from 
Deluge  slum,  destroyed  by  Apol¬ 
lo,  19. 


Q 

Qui-ri'nus  (from  quiris,  a  lance  or 
spear),  a  war  god,  said  to  be 
Romulus,  founder  of  Rome,  10. 

R 

Rag-na-rok',  the  twilight  (or  ending) 
of  the  gods,  348-349. 

Raj'puts,  minor  Hindu  caste,  324. 

Re-gil'lus,  lake  in  Latium,  noted 
for  battle  fought  near  by  between 
the  Romans  and  the  Latins,  158. 

Re'mus,  brother  of  Romulus, 
founder  of  Rome,  287. 

Rhad-a-man'thus,  son  of  Jupiter 
and  Europa,  after  his  death  one 
of  the  judges  in  the  lower  world, 
269,  273. 

Rhap'so-dist,  professional  reciter  of 
poems  among  the  Greeks,  307. 

Rhe'a,  female  Titan,  wife  of  Saturn 
(Cronos),  mother  of  the  chief 
gods,  worshipped  in  Greece  and 
Rome,  4,  5,  8,  143,  161,  179. 

Rhine,  river,  353,  355,  357. 

Rhine-maidens,  or  daughters,  three 
water  -  nymphs,  Flosshilda,  Wo- 
glinda,  and  Wellgunda,  set  to 
guard  the  Nibelungen  Hoard 
(which  See),  buried  in  the  Rhine, 
354,  355. 

Rhodes,  one  of  the  seven  cities 
claiming  to  be  Homer’s  birthplace, 
307. 

Rho'do-pe,  mountain  in  Thrace,  43. 

Rhoe'cus,  a  youth,  beloved  by  a 
Dryad,  but  who  brushed  away  a? 
bee  sent  by  her  to  call  him  to 
her,  and  she  punished  him  with 
blindness,  172. 

River  Ocean,  flowing  around  the 
earth,  2. 

Rome,  262,  287,  298. 

Rom'u-lus,  founder  of  Rome,  10, 
287. 

Ru'nic  characters,  or  runes,  alpha¬ 
betic  signs  used  by  early  Teu¬ 
tonic  peoples,  written  or  graved 
on  metal  or  stone,  330,  350. 


394 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


Ru-tu'li-ans,  an  ancient  people  in 
Italy,  subdued  at  an  early  period 
by  the  Romans,  276,  279,  281, 
282. 

S 

Sa'bra,  maiden  for  whom  Severn 
River  was  named,  daughter  of 
Locrine  and  Estrildis,  thrown  into 
river  Severn  by  Locrine’s  wife, 
transformed  to  a  river-nymph, 
poetically  named  Sabrina,  174. 

Sa'gas,  Norse  tales  of  heroism,  com¬ 
posed  by  the  Skalds  (which  See), 
351-357. 

Sa-git-ta'ri-us,  128. 

Sak-ya-sin'ha,  the  Lion,  epithet  ap¬ 
plied  to  Buddha,  325. 

Sal'a-man'der,  a  lizard-like  animal, 
fabled  to  be  able  to  live  in  fire, 
316-317. 

Sal'a-mis,  Grecian  city,  79,  307. 

Sal-mo'neus,  son  of  .Eolus  and 
Enarete,  and  brother  of  Sisy¬ 
phus,  269. 

Samh'in,  or  “fire  of  peace,”  a  Dru- 
idical  festival,  359. 

Sa'mi-an  sage  (Pythagoras),  288. 

Sa'mos,  island  in  the  vEgean  Sea, 
157,  288. 

Sam-o-thra'cian  gods,  a  group  of 
agricultural  divinities,  worshipped 
in  Samothrace,  158. 

Sam'son,  Hebrew  hero,  thought  by 
some  to  be  original  of  Hercules, 
301. 

Sapph'o,  Greek  poetess,  who  leaped 
into  the  sea  from  promontory  of 
Leucadia,  in  disappointed  love  for 
Phaon,  38,  203. 

Sar-pe'don,  son  of  Jupiter  and  Eu- 
ropa,  killed  by  Patroclus,  213, 
220. 

Sat'urn  (Cronos),  4,  5,  8,  9,  10, 
276,  280,  281,  301. 

Sat'ur-na'li-a,  annual  festival  held 
by  Romans  in  honor  of  Saturn, 
9. 

Sa-tur'ni-a,  an  ancient  name  of 
Italy,  281. 


Sa-tyrs,  male  divinities  of  the  for¬ 
est,  half  man,  half  goat,  9,  10, 
76. 

Scal'i-ger,  famous  German  scholar 
of  16th  century,  313. 

Scan-di-na'vi-a,  mythology  of,  giving 
account  of  Northern  gods,  heroes, 
etc.,  328-351. 

Sche'ri-a,  mythical  island,  abode  of 
the  Phsecians,  243. 

Schrim'nir,  the  boar,  cooked  nightly 
for  the  heroes  of  Valhalla,  becom¬ 
ing  whole  every  morning,  331. 

Sci'o,  one  of  the  island  cities 
claiming  to  be  Homer’s  birth¬ 
place,  307. 

Sco'pas,  King  of  Thessaly,  202,  203. 

Scor'pion,  constellation,  41,  43. 

Scyl'la,  sea-nymph  beloved  by  Glau- 
cus,  but  changed  by  jealous  Circe 
to  a  monster  and  finally  to  a 
dangerous  rock  on  the  Sicilian 
coast,  facing  the  whirlpool  Cha- 
rybdis,  many  mariners  being 
wrecked  between  the  two,  59-61, 
243-245,  261;  also,  daughter  of 
King  Nisus  of  Megara,  who  loved 
Minos,  besieging  her  father’s  city, 
but  he  disliked  her  disloyalty  and 
drowned  her,  98-101;  also,  a  fair 
virgin  of  Sicily,  friend  of  sea- 
nymph  Galatea,  209-210. 

Scy'ros,  where  Theseus  was  slain, 
154. 

Scyth'i-a,  country  lying  north  of 
Euxine  Sea,  31,  43,  129,  170. 

Sea,  the,  1. 

Sea-nymphs,  120,  209. 

Sea'sons,  3,  6. 

Sem'e-le,  daughter  of  Cadmus  and, 
by  Jupiter,  mother  of  Bacchus, 
8,  94,  160. 

Se-mir'a-mis,  with  Ninus  the  myth¬ 
ical  founder  of  the  Assyrian  em¬ 
pire  of  Nineveh,  23. 

Se-ra'pis,  or  Hermes,  Egyptian  di¬ 
vinity  of  Tartarus  and  of  medi¬ 
cine,  293,  295. 

Se-ri'phus,  island  in  the  Egean 
Sea;  one  of  the  Cyclades,  116, 
202. 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


«  395 


Serpent  (Northern  constellation), 
42. 

Ses'tos,  dwelling  of  Hero  (which 
See,  also  Leander),  105. 

“Seven  against  Thebes,”  famous 
Greek  expedition,  182. 

Sha-tri'ya,  Hindu  warrior  caste, 
323,  324. 

Sib'yl,  prophetess  of  Cumae,  265, 
266-275. 

Si-chae'us,  husband  of  Dido  (which 
See),  262. 

Sic'i-ly,  55,  56,  58,  61,  195,  209, 
260,  261,  264. 

Sieg'fried,  young  King  of  the  Neth¬ 
erlands,  husband  of  Kriemhild; 
she  boasted  to  Brunhild  that 
Siegfried  had  aided  Gunther  to 
beat  her  in  athletic  contests,  thus 
winning  her  as  wife,  and  Brun¬ 
hild,  in  anger,  employed  Hagan  to 
murder  Siegfried.  As  hero  of 
Wagner’s  “Valkyrie,”  he  wins  the 
Nibelungen  treasure-ring,  loves 
and  deserts  Brunhild,  and  is  slain 
by  Hagan,  352,  353,  355,  356-357. 

Sieg-lin'da,  wife  of  Hunding, 
mother  of  Siegfried  by  Siegmund, 
355,  356-357. 

Sieg'mund,  father  of  Siegfried,  355. 

Si-gu'na,  wife  of  Loki,  347. 

Si-le'nus,  a  Satyr,  school-master  of 
Bacchus,  46. 

Silver  Age,  14. 

Sil'vi-a,  daughter  of  Latin  shep¬ 
herd,  277. 

Si-mon'i-des,  an  early  poet  of 
Greece,  201-203. 

Si'non,  a  Greek  spy,  who  persuaded 
the  Trojans  to  take  the  Wooden 
Horse  (which  See)  into  their 
city,  230,  231. 

Si'rens,  sea-nymphs,  whose  singing 
charmed  mariners  to  leap  into  the 
sea;  passing  their  island,  Ulysses 
stopped  the  ears  of  his  sailors 
with  wax,  and  had  himself  bound 
to  the  mast  so  that  he  could  hear 
but  not  yield  to  their  music,  242. 

Sir'i-us,  the  dog  of  Orion,  changed 
to  the  Dog-star,  206. 


Sis'y-phus,  condemned  in  Tartarus 
to  perpetually  roll  up  hill  a  big 
rock  which,  when  the  top  was 
reached,  rolled  down  again,  186, 
270. 

Si'va,  the  Destroyer,  third  person 
of  the  Hindu  triad  of  gods,  320, 
322. 

Skalds,  Norse  bards  and  poets,  350. 

Skid-blad'nir,  Freyr’s  ship,  348. 

Skir'nir,  Frey’s  messenger,  who 
won  the  god’s  magic  sword  by 
getting  him  Gerda  for  his  wife, 
336. 

Skry'mir,  a  giant,  Utgard  Loki 
(which  See)  in  disguise,  who 
fooled  Thor  in  athletic  feats,  337. 

Skuld,  the  Norn  of  the  Future, 
330. 

Sleep,  twin-brother  of  Death,  220. 

Sleip'nir,  Odin’s  horse,  345. 

Som'nus,  child  of  Nox,  twin 
brother  of  Mors,  god  of  sleep, 
71-72,  264. 

Soph'o-cles,  Greek  tragic  dramatist, 
235. 

South  wind.  See  Notus. 

Spar'ta,  capital  of  Lacedaemon,  158, 
212,  233. 

Sphinx,  a  monster,  waylaying  the 
road  to  Thebes  and  propounding 
riddles  to  all  passers,  on  pain  of 
death  for  wrong  guessing,  who 
killed  herself  in  rage  when 
vEdipus  guessed  aright,  122,  123- 
124. 

Spring,  39,  56. 

Stro'phi-us,  father  of  Pylades,  234. 

Styg'i-an  realm,  Hades,  186. 

Styg'i-an  sleep,  escaped  from  the 
beauty-box  sent  from  Hades  to 
Venus  by  hand  of  Psyche,  who 
curiously  opened  the  box  and  was 
plunged  into  unconsciousness,  89. 

Styx,  river,  bordering  Hades,  to  be 
crossed  by  all  the  dead,  160,  228. 

Su'dras,  Hindu  laboring  caste,  323, 
324. 

Summer,  39. 

Sun,  3,  5,  39,  311. 

Sur'tur,  leader  of  giants  against  the 


396 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


gods  in  the  day  of  their  destruc¬ 
tion  (Norse  mythology),  349. 

Sur'ya,  Hindu  god  of  the  sun, 
corresponding  to  the  Greek  He¬ 
lios,  321. 

Sva-dil-fa'ri,  giant’s  horse,  334,  335. 

Swan,  Leda  and,  158. 

Syb'a-ris,  Greek  city  in  Southern 
Italy,  famed  for  luxury,  292. 

Syl-va'nus,  Latin  divinity  identified 
with  Pan,  76,  166. 

Sym-pleg'a-des,  floating  rocks  passed 
by  the  Argonauts,  131. 

Sy'rinx,  nymph,  pursued  by  Pan, 
but  esfcaping  by  being  changed  to 
a  bunch  of  reeds  ( See  Pandean 
pipes),  30. 

T 

Tac'i-tus,  Roman  historian,  311. 

Tsn'a-rus,  Greek  entrance  to  lower 
regions,  186. 

Ta'gus,  river  in  Spain  and  Portugal, 
44. 

Tan'a-is,  ancient  name  of  river  Don, 
44. 

Tan'ta-lus,  wicked  king,  punished  in 
Hades  by  standing  in  water  that 
retired  when  he  would  drink,  un¬ 
der  fruit-trees  that  withdrew 
when  he  would  eat,  112,  186,  270. 

Tar'chon,  Etruscan  chief,  282. 

Ta-ren'tum,  Italian  city,  197. 

Tar-pe'ian  rock,  in  Rome,  from 
which  condemned  criminals  were 
hurled,  280. 

Tar'quins,  a  ruling  family  in  early 
Roman  legend,  275. 

Tau'ris,  Grecian  city,  site  of  tem¬ 
ple  of  Diana  {See  Iphigenia), 
214,  234. 

Tar'rus,  a  mountain,  43. 

Tar'ta-rus,  place  of  confinement  of 
Titans,  etc.,  originally  a  black 
abyss  below  Hades;  later,  repre¬ 
sented  as  place  where  the  wicked 
were  punished,  and  sometimes  the 
name  used  as  synonymous  with 
Hades,  5,  44,  52,  53,  73,  186,  187, 
269,  293. 


Tel'a-mon,  Greek  hero  and  adven¬ 
turer,  father  of  Ajax,  98,  138, 
139. 

Te-lem'a-chus,  son  of  Ulysses  and 
Penelope,  212,  233,  246,  254,  255, 
256,  257. 

Tel'lus,  another  name  for  Rhea, 
134. 

Ten'e-dos,  an  island  in  .TEgean  Sea, 

21. 

Ter'mi-nus,  Roman  divinity  presid¬ 
ing  over  boundaries  and  fron¬ 
tiers,  10. 

Terp-sich'o-re,  Muse  of  dancing,  8. 

Ter'ra,  goddess  of  the  earth,  146. 

Te'thys,  goddess  of  the  sea,  32,  40, 
59,  172,  174. 

Teu'cer,  anciert  king  of  the  Tro¬ 
jans,  78. 

Tha-li'a,  one  of  the  three  Graces 
(which  See) ,  8. 

Tham'y-ris,  Thracian  lord,  who 
challenged  the  Muses  to  competi¬ 
tion  in  singing,  and,  defeated, 
was  blinded,  193. 

Thaukt,  Loki  disguised  as  a  hag, 
346. 

Thebes,  city  founded  by  Cadmus, 
and  capital  of  Boeotia,  11,  92, 
94,  111,  112,  123,  124,  161,  182, 
183,  192,  296. 

The'mis,  female  Titan,  law-counsel¬ 
lor  of  Jove,  4,  7,  9,  15  n.,  297. 

The'ron,  one  of  Diana’s  dogs,  35. 

Ther-si'tes,  a  brawler,  killed  by 
Achilles,  228. 

Thes'ce-lus,  foe  of  Perseus,  turned 
to  stone  by  sight  of  Gorgon’s 
head,  121. 

The-se'um,  Athenian  temple  in 
honor  of  Theseus,  154. 

The'se-us,  son  of  ACgeus  and  JEth- 
ra,  King  of  Athens,  a  great  hero 
of  many  adventures,  130,  136, 

138,  139,  147,  150-157,  158,  165, 
177. 

Thes'saly,  3,  69,  129,  130,  132,  170, 

202. 

Thes'ti-us,  father  of  Althea  (which 
See),  140. 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


397 


The'tis,  mother  of  Achilles,  173, 
174,  211,  212,  216,  221,  222,  225, 
228. 

Thi'al-fi,  Thor’s  servant,  337,  340.. 

This'be,  Babylonian  maiden  beloved 
by  Pyramus  (which  See),  23-26. 

Thor,  the  thunderer,  of  Norse 
mythology,  most  popular  of  the 
gods,  331,  332,  334,  335,  337-343, 
349,  352. 

Thrace,  31,  130,  258. 

Thri-na'ki-a,  island  pasturing  Hy¬ 
perion’s  cattle,  where  Ulysses 
landed,  but,  his  men  killing  some 
cattle  for  food,  their  ship  was 
wrecked  by  lightning,  244. 

Thrym,  giant,  who  buried  Thor’s 
hammer,  335. 

Thu-cyd'i-des,  Greek  historian,  98. 

Ti'ber,  river  flowing  through  Rome, 
276,  299. 

Tiber,  Father,  god  of  the  river,  279. 

Ti'gris,  river,  35. 

Ti-re'si-as,  a  Greek  soothsayer,  183. 

Ti-siph'o-ne,  one  of  the  Furies 
(which  See),  9,  269. 

Ti'tans,  the  sons  and  daughters  of 
Uranus  (Heaven)  and  Gaea 
(Earth),  enemies  of  the  gods  and 
overcome  by  them,  4,  5,  13,  18, 
52,  172,  269. 

Ti-tho'nus,  Trojan  prince,  207. 

Tit'y-us,  giant  in  Tartarus,  122, 
269. 

Tmo'lus,  a  mountain  god,  43,  47. 

Tortoise,  second  avatar  (which  See) 
of  Vishnu,  321. 

Tox'e-us,  brother  of  Melauger’s 
mother,  who  snatched  from  Ata- 
lanta  her  hunting  trophy,  and 
was  slain  by  Melauger,  who  had 
awarded  it  to  her,  139. 

Triad,  the  Hindu,  320-321. 

Tri-mur'ti,  Hindu  Triad,  320. 

Trip-tol'e-mus,  son  of  Celeus  (which 
See),  and  who,  made  great  by 
Ceres,  founded  her  worship  in 
Eleusis,  57. 

Tri'ton,  a  demi-god  of  the  sea,  son 
of  Poseidon  (Neptune)  and  Am- 
phitrite,  16,  60,  173,  174,  262. 


Troe'zen,  Greek  city  of  Argolis,  150. 

Tro'jans,  216,  259-264,  269,  277. 

Tro'jan  War,  138,  174,  184,  211- 
227. 

Tro-pho'ni-us,  oracle  of,  in  Boeotia, 
297-298. 

Troy,  city  in  Asia  Minor,  ruled  by 
King  Priam,  whose  son,  Paris, 
stole  away  Helen,  wife  of  Mene- 
laus  the  Greek,  resulting  in  the 
Trojan  War  and  the  destruction 
of  Troy,  206,  207,  212,  213,  214, 
218,  224,  227,  229,  236. 

Troy,  fall  of,  227-232. 

Tur'nus,  chief  of  the  Rutulianes  in 
Italy,  unsuccessful  rival  of  ZEneas 
for  Lavinia,  276,  277,  278,  279, 
281,  282,  286-287. 

Ty'phon,  one  of  the  giants  who  at¬ 
tacked  the  gods,  were  defeated, 
and  imprisoned  under  Mt.  iEtna, 
52,  123,  261,  293,  294. 

Tyr,  Norse  god  of  battles,  333. 

Tyre,  Phoenician  city  governed  by 
Dido  (which  See),  262. 

Tyr'ians,  92,  262. 

Tyr'rhe-us,  herdsman  of  King 
Turnus  in  Italy,  the  slaying  of 
whose  daughter’s  stag  aroused 
war  upon  ZEneas  and  his  com¬ 
panions,  277. 

U 

U-lys'ses  (Greek,  Odysseus),  hero 
of  the  Odyssey,  60,  61,  76,  184, 
212,  213,  217,  219,  228,  229,  230, 
232,  233,  236-257,  261. 

U'ni-corn,  fabled  animal  with  a  sin¬ 
gle  horn,  315. 

U-ra'ni-a,  one  of  the  Muses,  a 
daughter  of  Zeus  by  Mnemosyne, 
8,  126. 

Ur'dur,  one  of  the  Norns  or  Fates 
of  Scandinavia,  representing  the 
Past,  330. 

Ut'gard,  abode  of  the  giant  Ut- 
gard-Loki,  338. 

Ut'gard-Lo'ki,  King  of  the  Giants 
(See  Skrymir),  339-343. 


398 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


v 

Va-is'sy-as,  Hindu  caste  of  agricul¬ 
turists  and  traders,  323. 

Val-hal'la,  hall  of  Odin,  heavenly 
residence  of  slain  heroes,  330, 
331,  344,  348,  354,  355,  356. 

Val-ky'rie,  armed  and  mounted 
warlike  virgins,  daughters  of  the 
gods  (Norse),  Odin’s  messengers, 
who  select  slain  heroes  for  Val¬ 
halla  and  serve  them  at  their 
feasts,  331,  347,  354,  355. 

Ve,  brother  of  Odin,  329,  330. 

Ve'das,  Hindu  sacred  Scriptures, 
320,  321,  324. 

Ve'nus  (Aphrodite),  goddess  of 
beauty,  6,  7,  11,  13,  53,  65-67, 
76,  78,  80,  82,  86-89,  94,  123, 
142,  165,  209,  211,  212,  216,  218, 
232,  264,  265. 

Ve'nus  de  Med'i-ci,  famous  antique 
statue  in  Uffizi  Gallery,  Florence, 
Italy,  305. 

Ver-dan'di,  the  Present,  one  of  the 
Norns  (which  See ),  330. 

Ver-tum'nus,  god  of  the  changing 
seasons,  whose  varied  appearances 
won  the  love  of  Pomona,  76-79. 

Ves'ta,  daughter  of  Cronos  and 
Rhea;  goddess  of  the  home-fire, 
or  hearth,  10. 

Ves'tals,  virgin  priestesses  in  tem¬ 
ple  of  Vesta,  10. 

Ve-su'vi-us,  Mount,  volcano  near 
Naples,  266. 

Vig'rid,  final  battle-field,  with  de¬ 
struction  of  the  gods  and  their 
enemies,  the  sun,  the  earth,  and 
time  itself,  349. 

Vi'li,  brother  of  Odin  and  Ve,  329. 

Vir'gil,  celebrated  Latin  poet  ( See 
yEneid),  212,  266,  273,  275,  307- 

308. 

Vir'go,  constellation  of  the  Virgin, 
representing  Astraea,  goddess  of 
innocence  and  purity,  15  n. 

Vish'nu,  the  Preserver,  second  of 
the  three  chief  Hindu  gods,  320, 
321,  325. 

Vol'scens,  Rutulian  troop  leader 


who  killed  Nisus  and  Euryalus, 
284. 

Vol'sung-a  Sa'ga,  an  Icelandic  poem, 
giving  about  the  same  legends 
as  the  Nibelungen  Lied  (which 
See),  217,  354. 

Vul'can  (Greek,  Haephestus),  god 
of  fire  and  metal-working,  with 
forges  under  ^Ftna,  husband  of 
Venus,  4,  6,  10,  39,  41,  94,  123, 
151,  182,  205,  222,  287,  301. 

Vy-a'sa,  Hindu  sage,  320. 

W 

Wain,  the,  constellation,  3. 

Well-gun'da,  one  of  the  Rhin»- 
daughters  (which  See),  354. 

Western  Ocean,  273. 

Winds,  the,  176,  208. 

Winter,  39. 

Wo'den,  chief  god  in  the  Norse 
mythology;  Anglo-Saxon  for  Odin, 
330. 

Wog-lin'da,  one  of  the  Rhine- 
daughters  (which  See),  354. 

Woman,  creation  of,  13. 

Wooden  Horse,  the,  filled  with 
armed  men,  but  left  outside  of 
Troy  as  a  pretended  offering 
to  Minerva  when  the  Greeks 
feigned  to  sail  away;  accepted  by 
the  Trojans  ( See  Sinon,  and  Lao- 
coon),  brought  into  the  city,  and 
at  night  emptied  of  the  hidden 
Greek  soldiers,  who  destroyed  the 
town,  229-232. 

Wood-nymphs,  76,  167. 

Wo'tan,  Old  High  German  form  of 
Odin,  351,  352,  354,  355,  356. 

X 

Xan'thus,  river  of  Asia  Minor,  44. 
Y 

Ya'ma,  Hindu  god  of  the  Infernal 
Regions,  321. 

Year,  the,  39. 


INDEX  AND  DICTIONARY 


399 


Yg-dra'sil,  great  ash-tree,  supposed 
by  Norse  mythology  to  support 
the  universe,  330. 

Y'mir,  giant,  slain  by  Odin,  329, 
348. 

Z 

Zend'a-vesta,  Persian  sacred  Scrip¬ 
tures,  318. 

Zeph'y-rus,  god  of  the  South  wind, 
68,  82,  83,  85,  176,  273. 


Ze'tes,  winged  warrior,  companion 
of  Theseus,  133,  176. 

Ze'thus,  son  of  Jupiter  and  Anti- 
ope,  brother  of  Amphion,  192. 
See  Dirce. 

Zeus,  4.  See  Jupiter. 

Zo-ro-as'ter,  founder  of  the  Persian 
religion,  which  was  dominant  in 
Western  Asia  from  about  550  B.c. 
to  about  650  a.d.,  and  is  still  held 
by  many  thousands  in  Persia  and 
in  India,  318-320. 


